Incandescent
by Nga Aroha
Summary: Demon's don't make good fathers - that's something Raven can attest to. But what kind of father would a Marauder make? If searching for her 'second dad' wasn't enough, the original has just made a deal with the Dark Lord and she can't stop them alone.
1. The Possibility and the Past

**I do not own anything, and never will. Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling, a woman I resprect and adore without having to know. Teen Titans is property of some corporation, and they're okay I guess. **

_'Twas bored, and started to write a couple of hours ago. In my head it's already a fully feldged story, but right now it's just a teaser. This might be a rather odd way to take these two worlds to mash together, but that's just how I am. I wanted to do a little mystery, a little romance and lot of drama. This story takes place in book five, the Order of the Pheonix. Those Marauders that are still alive are in their mid-thirties, the golden trio are around fifteen, and our dear Raven has just survived her sixteenth birthday. I choose this time because all the people I love are still alive - Fred, Dumbledore, and you Sirius, whom I have always loved. If this carries on, The HP universe will be the main setting because it's so full of magic. _

* * *

**Present, Titan's Tower, 10pm**

Outside the metal structure, christened Titan's Tower by it's inhabitants, nature had finally quietened after a long day. The waves that had burst onto the rocky shore with violent passion had subsided to mere memories of themselves and wind was non-existent, unusual for this time of year. Even the stars were hushed, as if they were waiting for some great announcement to arrive at any moment, set to change the course of life underneath them forever.

Inside the tower they hung over, in a dimly lit bedroom, a young woman thumbed the pages of an old book. She was alone, as was usual. Her friends were settling down to pizza and movies without her, having given up on Raven joining them tonight. They had learnt the probability she would want to 'hang out' with them on a Friday was not high, so they wern't all that shocked. If they had glimpsed her reading they might have said she appeared perfectly normal (for Raven), unless they looked close enough to notice the burning focus behind her eyes or the stiff frame of her back.

_The first way in which male demon go about impregnating the female human is the same as with the male of the human species (page 137) However there have been times when this has seemed impossible - most notably, when the female human is already pregnant. _

Raven paused for a moment, disgust paralyzing her progress, before she managed to overcome it and continue reading. Her ability to cope with horror had grown in thanks to her father's attempted take-over of earth not a few months earlier. It was that very event which sparked her intrest in literature dealing with demons, perhaps in attempt to understand and contain her darker side so she would never become his true kin. So far this particular book had been helpful. It contained a chapter on half-demons, which she was just getting around to when the chapter title '_Siring the spawn_' caught her eye.

_The male demon will not even notice the difference. Once he has choosen to create a child blended of his and the female humans DNA, that is that. However, in these cases when the woman is already with child, theres are not the only DNA involved. Instead of fertilizing the egg, the sperm acts like a virus, infecting the already existing zygote in the womb. The child born will still be half-demon, indistringuishable from their more traditionally spawned counter-part except that they will still contain traites from itheir original fathers. It is often said that these children have three parents-_

The aggression with which her eyes raked the page was at odds with the delicate way she held the tome, as if it were a baby bird with a broken wing. She had found it by chance in one of the book stores she liked to frequent, in the very back of the shop where some of the more questionable tomes were kept. At first it had seemed like a collectors item, until the clerk had seen her looking at it and laughed. It was either some sort of joke, or the work of a madman, he'd said. "It's about demons for christsakes!"

She bought it immediatly, spending more money than she'd spent on the Titan's christmas presents last year put together. She'd skimmed the first few pages, and if she hadn't been sure the author didn't know what they were talking about, she wouldn't have taken it. But on the very first page it talked about the powers of higher-level demons, and mentioned of lot of her very own talents. She couldn't resist.

It turned out the _'Demon Lore'_ was some kind of case study compleated by a non-demon who was fascinated to the point of obsession with them. The book enthused over such things as Demon hirachies while glossing over human dealths as if they were justified. It was as uncomfortable to read as _Mein Kamf_, and if Robin found it she'd have some serious explaining to do.

_The half-breed child whose DNA has been hijacked cannot be seperated from it's demon side. Their powers and Demonic heritage are a perminately a part of them. The only differences, we must keep in mind, are based on evidence purely anecdotal. The most frequently observed difference is that they pocess more human qualities, such a remorse and guilt, than traditional half-demons. _

"Raven!" Her leader called, trying one last time to engage her. She glanced up briefly, her eyes swivelling to the door but then she dropped them back to her book without replying. The words swum before her eyes: _It is almost as if these children have three parents. _

Raven let the book fall shut, emitting a dust cloud. Her mind was numb with possibilities, with hope she'd never dared let grip her before. She wondered if...

_..they pocess more human qualities..._

If there was one thing Raven prided herself on, it was her compassion for humans. She loved humans in a way a man like her _father _could not even begin to understand. She'd never killed, or felt the real urge to kill, a human in all her life.

Yet it couldn't be possible. She was just fantasasing, something she'd banned herself from since childhood. However this time she couldn't stop her mind from racing. What if she were one of the children who had three parents? What if there was more to her than her uncaring wench of a mother and her murderous fiend of a father? What if, by some miracle, Arella had already been pregnant when the demon had raped her?

There could be someone else out there with a connection to her, however tenous.

Raven sighed and shook her head. It was just a fantasy. Just a foolish wish.

It was only ten pm, but she couldn't bring herself to go out and join her friends, nor would she feed her hope by reading on. With no other options she slipped into bed, feeling as if her bones were made of sponge. This proved the worst idea yet - she lay on her side, staring out the window, wondering if she should write to her mother. She even started drafting one in her head but no matter how she tried, she couldn't find a different combination of '_Were you pregnant when my dad raped you?' _that didn't sound suspicious. Besides, she didn't want to have anymore contact with the mother who had abandoned her anyway.

_Forget about it, _she told herself sternly. _You're not that lucky_.

* * *

**17 years previous, London, 10pm**

Angela Roth stepped off the train and looked around, a sinking feeling entering her stomach. Now what?

Night was falling and she had no where to stay, no money and most importantly, no coat. Running away from her her grandparents house had seemed smart, but now she wasn't so sure. She started to think of places she knew in London when people shoved past her. She realised then that she'd been blocking the exit out of the station.

Ignoring the dirty looks she received from passangers who deemed a ten second wait unnaceptable, she headed outside into the street and stood on the corner, looking around at the lights. She wanted to head to town, into some warm pub and drown everything out. Goosebumps rose up on her shoulers and legs.

"Alright love?" a grinning man across the street called out to her. His friends laughed and one punched him lightly on the arm. They were okay looking, Angela guessed.

She checked for traffic and strode across the road to them. The man took a step back in surprise.

"I'm fine." She said conversationally, once she reached them. "Why do you ask?"

She hadn't planned to run away. It was just, the nagging had finally gotten to her and she couldn't stand it any longer. _Angela, why don't you take more intrest in sports?_ _Angela, why did you drop maths without telling us? Angela, we can't look after you forever! Angela, you're seventeen, what are you going to do with your life?_ At home they more or less let her be, but every 'holiday' to visit her grandparents the nagging became worse and worse. Her grandmother enjoyed high teas, and her grandfather, smoozing. Their granddaughter was nothing like the young lady they expected, and that embarassed her parents.

"Uh, we were just going to a club opening. We wonder if you'd like to come with us?" The man said, dropping the cave man act. Angela smirked and linked her arm through the stranger's.

_A little bit of dancing never hurt anyone,_ she thought. Besides, it would be warm in the club and she had no where else to go.

"Lead the way." She called out, grateful for the company. The mans friends, dumb-founded, did as she asked and were soon laughing with each other once again.

Those who found Angela's style of making friends too forward wern't the kind of people she ever wanted to be friends with anyway. She had no gift for anything except flirting and partying, and she always thought it would be a shame to let them go to waste. Despite what everyone said, she found her behavior never got her into trouble. Sure, drunk guys would get a little too friendly, but if she didn't feel like it, she got away. Any brushes with the law never came to much, and were just something to laugh about later with school friends in on the joke.

Tonight however, she had struck out. Angela found the men boring and even after a few drinks, very average looking. She slipped away into the street when they wern't looking and carried on towards the pub. Her short dress wasn't any warmer, but the alcohol had numbed her to the cold already. She spotted a group of men walking towards her, one of them stunning to look at. He smiled at her, and she felt uncharisticly nervous all of a sudden. Her heel caught on a cobblestone and she tripped, falling very slowly. There was a loud popping sound, and suddenly she was caught by one of the other men.

"Nice one Moony!" The beautiful man chortled. Angela thanked her rescuer, wondering in her drunken state how he had gotten from over there, to over here, so quickly.

"Thatss a very interesting name you have." She told him, leaning close for warmth. Moony's eyes were a little out of focus. He smiled.

"That's a very interesting accent you got." One of the other men retorted. He was dark-haired, like Angela, with glasses and pale blue eyes. Angela stuck her hands on her hips playfully.

"It's American, and what would your name be?"

The man grinned and sank into an exagerated bow.

"My name, is Prongs. This here on my right is my friend Padfoot, and if you look to my other right, you will see my friend wormtail."

Angela hadn't noticed the other man, who was squat and beedy eyed. She didn't particularly want to notice him either.

"I'm Angela." She introduced herself, still holding onto Moony for balance.

"Well Angela," Padfoot said, smiling the most charming smile she'd seen in months. "Where are you off to, all alone?"

They were all very drunk, but it didn't matter. When drunk people get together, they seem to exist in a world similar to that of children, and right now the five of them seemed as if they were mimicing conversations they'd seen in the world of adults.

"I don't know." Angela sniffed. Padfoot was next to her immediately.

"Well then come with us. We're having ourselves a little engagement party."

"Where's the bride?" Angela asked.

"There's no bride yet." Moony said jovialy. "Not until Prongs gets the courage to ask her."

"Tomorrow I said!" Prongs shoved Moony, a little too hard, causing him to fall. Without his support Angela stumbled. They all laughed. The drunk could find humor in a brick wall, so this was side splitting.

"Lets go." Padfoot grinned, wiping tears from his eyes. "You Angela, are cordially invited along to boy's night."

She linked one arm through his, and the other through the arm of the man named Prongs, just as she had with the previous stranger. She had a good feeling about these boys though. They were a little older than her, but that never mattered before, why should it now? They set off down the road, Prongs and Padfoot singing songs with funny words like 'Grindlewald' and 'Hufflepuff'.

The next morning Angela woke up with a splitting headache. She couldn't remember a thing, except for a curious drink named Firewhiskey that had knocked her off her feet. She crept out of bed so as not to wake the sleeping man next to her, and grabbed her clothes off the floor. She smirked as she put them on. Her friends would piss themselves when she told them about this adventure. She only wished she could remember the whole thing - they must have taken something stronger than marijuana.

Without saying goodbye she walked out of the hotel room and out onto the street, headed back towards the train station. It was time to meet her parents furious gazes, as she always did. She was getting tired of running away and coming back, and decided never to do it again, even beleiving herself for a second. As she walked People glared at her crumbled dress and her bare feet – she carried her heels in her hand. She did not regret any of her one-night stands and she loved her walks of shame. Attention from old angry old biddy's was the best kind. She lifted her chin and smiled sweetly back, with her chest pushed out and memories of the man's touch on her skin.

Angela felt invinsible.

She did not know that in less than a month, all the trouble she'd amanaged to avoid would catch up to her.

* * *

_So there you have it. If you want more, let me know. If not... well, FINE._


	2. First Impressions

**I do not claim to own Teen Titans or Harry Potter, but simply to love them. **

_A thousand thank yous to those who read and reviewed, I've decided to continue on. I must apologise for the speed of this chapter, but I wanted to get into the magical world as quickly as possible. I hope it all makes sense, I'm new to third person. For reference, the scene we open upon now is the eve of the return to Hogwarts (the night they have the small party for Ron and Hermione being made prefects in The Order of the Phoenix)_

* * *

_Grimmauld Place, Seven PM_

Raven Roth appeared at the curb of a small London street with a shimmer of air and energy. She was partially obscured by the shadows of oaks growing tall in the park behind her, enough so that any humans close by would think her apparation was a trick of the mind and that she must have been there all along.

She stood quiet and motionless, observing the block of old-fashioned apartments set out in a row before her. A bag was slung over her shoulder and she wore a non-descript civilian outfit - dark Jeans, a blue shirt and a dark jumper with her standard hood. She'd managed to enchant her appearance, so that her hair was more black than violet and her skin a shade more cream than ashen, but it did little to distract from the blood-red ruby adorning her forehead. Somewhere, in the depths of her ruck-sack, her Titans communicator was nestled in a pair of navy socks.

She thought that the flats seemed glued together, hunched in a crowd like Emperer Penguins sheltering from the cold. Though there was the odd descrepancy of the house numbers skipping from number 11 straight to number 13, the area looked very similar to every other lower-middleclass neighbourhood in London. If not for the strong trace of magic Raven could feel emmulating from the gap between where number 12 Grimmauld place should have stood, she would have bypassed it compleatly. She could feel the repulsive force of the barriers surrounding it but not so much that she couldn't get in. The precautions whoever owned the house had taken to ensure they had no visitors were extensive and strong, yet it was not Raven's brand of magic. It didn't affect her the way it would a wizard and that was how she was able to feel her body slip away from the earth, and, as she concented on the spaces between particles, reappear in the darkest hallway she'd ever set foot in.

It had a dank, musty smell that evoked images of dungeons and delapadated buildings in her mind's eye. It was quiet, but for the muffled sound of laughter and chattering heard through the wall. Somewhere in this house, she knew at least two of her potential fathers were waiting. She just wished she knew their names. She advanced down the corridor, her heart feeling like the rotors of a helecopter, gathering more speed for take off the closer she came to the source of the noise.

In the weeks after she'd read that fateful chapter of _Demon Lore,_ Raven's mind had been consumed. She had been trained specificly to empty it of thoughts and emotion, and in her life she had been sucessful - she had to be in order to survive -until now. The idea of another father had gripped her and refused to let go. It had made it impossible for her to focus on training, on fighting the monotonous succesion of criminals the Titan's faced everyday. It had all come to a head when Robin had demanded to know what was eating her up after a sloppy fight which had resulted in an escaped villian. He had said it had been her fault but that was an exaggeration - though only just. She'd refused to offer any information. Raven trusted Robin more than anyone else, but that was still not enough to tell him about this particular problem. He'd sighed. After all they had been through together, and after all he had experianced in his own life, he understood sometimes you had to fix your problems on your own, that sometimes they were too painful to speak of. Robin had shocked her by giving her a month off, and telling her to come back with her head in order. He'd wished her luck, and meant it.

Raven loved her friends. Right now she held them like a talismen to her chest, protecting her from disapointment. She held them in the spot a normal person might hold their family- directly over their heart. Her nerves were seeping out of her like blood, and the thought of their tight-knit group was like pressure to quell the flow. No matter what, she always had the Titan's to return to. Even if all three parents turned out to hate her, she would forever be their sister.

Raven was sure now. Sure that she had a real, _human_ father.

After Robin had let her go, she had teleported directly to Azarath. She had run on anger and hope rather than logic, bursting directly into her mothers lodgings and demanding an answer to only one question. The older woman was bitter and confused. Arella's life since her arrival in Azarath had been spent anticipating an end that had never come, yet the sudden appearance of her daughter still managed to shock.

"Who did you sleep with just before Trigon?" Raven had asked her, the words spewing out like oil, staining a heavy silence between them. Remembering it now as she felt her way down the dank passage, Raven wondered how she had let her ethics slip so dramaticly. Unconsciously, she had done something she had previously, in calmer times, deemed moraly wrong. With finger-like demon energy, she had reached out with her senses and tasted the first thoughts that popped into her mothers head before she had been able to throw up the same mind barriers the monks had fostered in Raven from infancy. It was no use, what had been seen could not be unseen, and the image was still frozen in Ravens mind days later.

The scene her mother had pictured at the prompt of Raven's words had been of four men - the ones she'd stumbled across on a Londen street almost seventeen years ago. To Raven's surprise she had recognised one of them. Arella's face had been white-washed and easy to read. She'd slept with one. That was the only explanation of that particular image appearing, though it didn't explain why all four men were there. Perhaps she couldn't remember which one it had been, perhaps she'd even slept with them all. Arella _had_ always had a reputation for a reason.

To the Raven of a few days ago, it was another piece of evidence that had mounted up in a pile threatening to overwhelm her with hapiness. Her ability to relate to humans, the wish to be one of them. The fact her mother had obviously slept around before Trigon had got to her, probably irresponsibly. The fact Raven never did feel truly demonic. Nothing would change the fact that Trigon was one of her fathers, but she had been and still was _more_ than willing to accept he had not been the original, but a corrupting genetic force added after she had been created. She cherished the idea that she had once been a normal human, even in-vitro, before a certain demon with a plan inturrupted.

With all that fresh hope sewn into her skin, Raven had teleported back to earth's dimension, detirmined to find a book she had once read, titled _'A Modern Wizarding History'_

Now Raven advanced further down the hall, thinking over how she had come to this point and nearly tripping over a large square table-shaped object. She felt as if she was on fire, but when one had brushed another it felt like stroking ice. The voices grew louder, fighting for dominance in a cheerful sort of way. Raven thought dryly that she'd stumbled across a party. _How like me to ruin it. _

Did the young demoness stop to think how it would affect the people she was looking for if she made contact, with ludacris claims of co-fathership? Of course she did. She had doubts about approaching the remaining three of them and causing them stress because she didn't know which man would be the one. She thought they might already have families that would be disturbed by her. She wondered briefly why a tenous connection made only of DNA even mattered to her, or if it would matter to them. Mostly she stewed over the terryfying idea she was unlikely to find them at all.

Two days ago she had finally found the book she'd been searchng for, and within it a photograph of a man with glasses, his red-headed wife and their infant son. Along with the picture from Arella's mind, she had also stolen a group of words, of names that belonged to each of the four men. Of snatches of drunken conversation, of one in which they announced themselves to be _Marauders. _Their names were obviously fake, but they were all she had to go on. Prongs. _James Potter._

Raven didn't know which of the men were her father, but upon re-reading _'A Modern Wizarding History'_ she had known that one of the candidates was extremely famous among the wizarding world she had learned of in Azarath, but had never entered. Also, that the man was dead.

Death didn't mean James Potter wasn't her father. Just that she'd never meet him. Even now, there was a one in four chance that he was the dad. Raven even felt oddly closer to him, as he was the only "Marauder" with a real name. Raven carried on down the hall, moving perhaps more slowly than was neccesary. Several times she felt like she might stop, like she might simply fall down from exhaustion and nervous energy.

Today she had entered the world of Wizards and witches for the first time. She had heard all about it, but seeing was something different all together. She had never before experianced an atmosphere so full of magic, of people unafraid of being different from the average human. To track down Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail, she had no leads. Diagon alley was so famous, even she knew about it, so it was her first stop. A random choice, that ended in a lucky encounter.

Out of sheer dumb luck, as she was walking spell-bound through the Alley, she'd come across a man who had seemed so familiar she'd stopped walking. The street below her feet had seemed to pulse with magic, but the feeling when she realised where she knew him from was better than that. He was older, dressed in robes so tattered they were almost rags, with a few deep lines in his forehead, but it was him. _Moony. _He had the same face, the same unsure smile. In his hands he held a briefcase, silver lettering up the side spelling out _R J Lupin. _

She had felt as if she had been slapped through a layer of heavy cloth. Moony. She had placed her hood up - it did not seem odd in this colourful new world - and walked past him as slowly as she could, her ears straining. Fate must have been rooting for her, because he stopped and whispered to a red-headed woman, before carrying on as if they didn't know one another.

_"Tell Padfoot I'll be round for dinner."_

_Prongs, Moony and Padfoot._ They were still all connected. That had made things easier for her. She would find Wormtail later, but at that moment she knew if she followed R. J. Lupin, she would find Padfoot as well. And that was what she did, tailing him throughout the day, until, half an hour earlier, from her position far enough away so he wouldn't spot her, Moony had dissapeared into thin air in front of where number 12 Grimmauld place _should_ have been. In that moment she had wanted to run home to Robin and pretend nothing was wrong, but then her mind went over all the reasons why she had no choice other than to jump in.

The nail in the coffin was the fact she had the ability to enter Diagon Alley at all. To be able to enter, you had to have magical blood. You had to be the tiniest part Wizard. Raven highly doubted Arella had latent magical abilities. The magical blood in her could only have come from one place, or rather, one of four places. To give up because she was scared was unthinkable.

Raven stopped in the dark as her hands hit the unweilding wood panels of a door. The voices reached her from the other side. With a deep breath, she gripped the handle, the events of the few days swimming inside her head. The door opened a crack.

Inside, the inhabitants of the kitchen were on the verge of an arguement. Banners had been strung up in anticipation of a party (Well done Hermione and Ron, Gryffindor prefects!) , but all festive mood was fast dissapearing. On one side of the table, the woman Moony had whispered to in Diagon Alley stood squat and stern, glaring across an eirily familiar-looking man with long and messy black hair. The atmosphere was so tense, no one noticed for a second that a young woman of extremely odd appearance had entered their supposedly inpenatrable safehouse.

"He's not Jam-" Molly shrieked, before she was cut off by her husband shoving a wand under her chin to point at the girl. In that second, every wand-carrying member had theirs pointing at Ravens heart, head or throat. She stood with her hands up and the blank expression she usually wore, wether she was fighting a criminal, making tea, or infiltrating the Order of the Phoenix (Though she currently knew it only as an old house containing information she desperatly wanted)

"Who are you?" The man she knew as R. J. Lupin asked seriously.

"Don't I look familiar?" She replied, her voice cracking slightly from disuse over the past week. The words lay between them like a bridge. There was no trace of recognition in the haggard-looking man's eyes, only steely determination to extract answers. He would not cross it.

"What do you want?" The man she now recognised as Padfoot asked. The years had clearly not been kind to him. All the joy had been leeched from his face, replaced by hard lines. Still, there were traces of the handsomeness that once was, and she had no doubts it were him. Raven's heart felt as if it were taking punches. Here they were, in the flesh. Two men whom she might belong to.

"The Marauders." She replied, swallowing back a lump forming in her throat. The reaction was instant and unexpected. An uproar spread across the kitchen, questions flung at her like curses. Instinct jumped around inside her, told her to cover herself. She felt vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. Ignoring logic as she often did in dire situations, she reached towards the metal strip behind her. Knives hung there, either magnitised or magically, and she had caught their glint with her eye as she'd crept in. She pulled at one of the handles, extracting a medium-sized knife so quick no one had time to fling a spell.

There was a red-headed girl sitting in front of her, who had swung her head around as soon as she'd entered. She had no wand on her, or at least, it was not pointing in Raven's direction. Raven did not panic, so instead it was the same determination that appeared in Moony that caused her to bring the knife to the girls neck. The entire room fell silent so compleatly it was as if noise itself had been murdered. To her credit, the red-headed girl did not move a muscle.

"Let her go!" The red-headed woman, the girl's mother, shrieked. Raven showed no outward sign of hearing her, but inside she flinched. This was not her way of doing things. _If Robin saw me now,_ she thought with a no guilt. Her thoughts were like that of a stalked animal's - quick and simple. Only later would she feel ashamed of her actions. She looked only from Moony to Padfoot, trying to see some of herself reflected in them. Nothing. Suddenly a boy stood up - one she recognised. Harry Potter stared at her very deliberately.

"What do you know about Marauders?" He asked. He was trying to stay calm, but Raven could feel rage and confusion inside him like a hurricane. She glanced at the lightning bolt scar on his forehead and wondered if he was brave or simply stupid. If she had been going to cut this girls throat, now would have been the perfect time. Of course she'd never do it, but he didn't know that. The desision to stand up and adress her directly was more rash that her desicion to come here in the first place, she thought wryly.

Raven opened her mouth to speak, to give them some sarcastic answer or another, when a grizzled older man with a dizzying blue eye shot a jet of light at her wordlessly and lightning-fast. Raven fell to the ground with a muffled thump, her eyes sliding closed as the knife hit the ground with a clang. The Red-headed girl received a tiny cut across her shoulder as it grazed past, but was otherwise unharmed.

The group of witches and wizards turned to stare at Mad-Eye Moody, who kept his wand out in front of him.

"That was unexpected." Ron Weasly muttered. His mother shot him her famous glare at the same time Hermione Granger shot him her famous withering look.

"You okay Ginny?" Harry asked. Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Arthur Weasly advanced on the Raven's body.

"She's out to it alright, but how the hell did she get into here?" Sirius asked. He did not expect an answer.

"More importantly, how does she know about the Marauders?" Lupin said, his voice trailing off into silence.

"'haps she's one of Voldemorts." Mundungus Flectcher suggested, bleary eyed.

"Voldemort wouldn't send in a wandless teenager to capture these two." Mad-eye grunted, after checking her pockets and coming up with no weapons but the knife that had falled from the girl's limp hand.

"I'll call Dumbledore." Molly said, hurrying off.

"And Serverus!" Lupin called after her. At Harry's questioning look, he added "We'll need Veritiserum."

The collection of witches and wizards continued to stare at the unconscious girl until she returned.

"He'll be here any minute."

* * *

_Well, hope you liked it and it wasn't too confusing. The next chapter will be far more ordered, with much less reminising, and more interigating! We are well and truly into the magical world now. Please review, I really appreciate it._


	3. Revelations

**I do not claim to own Teen Titans or Harry Potter, but simply to love them. **

Sorry for the wait my pretties, enjoy.

* * *

_Twenty-five minutes later, Living Room, Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

Raven awoke to find herself sitting upright in a lumpy armchair encased in ropes, with her bag spilt open at her feet. The contents had obviously been sifted through, and left out to make her aware of the fact. She was in a room much darker and ambient than the kitchen had been, surrounded by the odd assortment of people who'd been at the dinner table as well as a few new ones. The most intriguing was an older man she couldn't quite bring herself to describe as elderly, with a thick snowy beard and penetrating blue eyes. He appeared as merry as the crackling fire, while the others were staring down at her with expressions of distrust, suspicion and occasionally hatred. Of course the most dominant emotion, now that she was safetly tied up, was curiosity.

"Enjoy sifting through my underwear?" Raven adressed the general group, bristling. She managed to toe a set - a difficult feat considering she was bound from her shoulders down to her ankles. They wern't anything embarassing, just three similar sets in blue, nude and black, but she definately did not like this. She liked even less that someone had touched her while she was unconscious, and carried her here. Going through her bag was a final invasion of privacy she could not stand. Though there really was not much to see in the rucksack - a spare pair of jeans, some shirts, the underwear, her T-com and small, thick book - they were hers. To see her pale blue knickers on the living room floor in some strange meeting house was a bit much on top of everything else.

A few in the crowd of about fifteen shifted uncomfotably, but her entrance and tone of voice, even when backed into a corner, was not winning her any fans. No one spoke, though several eyes did glance down at her posessions fleetingly.

"Good Evening." The man with the piercing gaze greeted her, as if she had been napping rather than knocked-out. Raven kept her lips pursed, calculating a way out of the situation. The ropes that bound her wern't normal. They were magical and they seemed to have a pulse. Still, she was almost certain she could phase out of them, but to make her escape now would be foolhardy. There had been adolescents at that gathering, and they were still standing there now, so it was unlikely she'd stumbled into a gang of murderers unless they started them young in Britain nowadays. If they wanted to kill her, they would have done so already or at least sent the younger ones out of the room, so she resolved to bide her time.

"How did you gain entry into this house?" The man asked her, after waiting out a suffuciently tense silence.

"I teleported." she said immediately. She frowned. Raven had wanted to stay quiet, yet she spoke up before she even had a chance to think.

The man raised his snowy brows above the lense of his half-moon spectacles in mild surprise.

"You did not apparate?"

Raven had heard of apparation before, but she did not know if it were the same method as her form of teleportation.

"I'm not sure if it's the same thing." Again, she spoke without meaning to. Something was wrong. Cautiously, she put up barriers around her mind. She didn't want to expend all her energy, nor did she want someone poking around it there.

"Who did you come here for?" The grizzled man with the electric blue eye that seemed to act of it's own accord asked, his tone demanding. Raven wanted to lie, but an inexplicable urge to tell the truth siezed her and forced words from between her lips.

"The Marauders!" She blurted, only just managing to stop herself from mentioning R J Lupin. The man himself was standing off to the corner with Padfoot, both watching her wearily. She wished they were the only three people in the room, so they could talk. Desperation was growing inside her. She wanted to know everything she came to know now. She wanted answers.

"Did you come to kill or capture them?" The older man spoke up, his voice magnified somehow. This time, Raven did not even feel the compulsion to lie. She couldn't fathom killing anyone who didn't really, truly deserve it. Not with Trigon begging for it to happen and Robin in her mind all the time. Even now she felt his presence, a light dimmed significantly by distance, but always there. It gave her comfort.

"No."

"Why did you hold the knife to that young girls throat?"

"My daughter!" The red-headed woman hissed. Whenever she wasn't looking at Raven, her face took on a kind sort of expression, so she supposed she was the type of lioness mother who would do anything to protect her young that Raven had so little experience with. The kind she'd always wished she'd had herself. Instead she was stuck with Arella, a women who told her to give up, give in, _it's all pointless anyway_.

"To make them all listen. I needed leverage, they all had wands pointed at _my_ throat, which I'd say is just as hostile."

"So you wouldn't have harmed her."

"No."

The answer escaped before she could stop it this time. She didn't neccesarily want these strangers to think she was a murderer, but nor did she want them to view her as she appeared – a teenaged girl. Raven had long ago begun feeling like an adult, but other people were having a hard time following. She found that often she wasn't taken seriously, either because she was deemed too young or men were too busy staring at her chest if Starfire's legs wern't around.

"Why can't I stop myself answering your questions?" She asked, irritation causing a buzzing sound in her head. This was not how she wanted their first encounter to go.

"Veritaserum." The grizzled man answered smugly. "Scum has to be forced to tell the truth, and the drops you were slipped before you came to means you'll tell it for another hour or so."

Truth Serum. She had underestimated them and their magic, assuming she would be able to handle it. In reality she knew little of the world she ran head-first into. She had no back-up, no back-up plan, and only a theory so far fetched even _she_ had needed convincing to justify her intrusion with. Being stupid was something she couldn't tolerate from herself, along with crying and giving up. She began to attempt to fight the poison inside her, now realising throwing up mind barriers would do nothing to stop something that was already inside her. She had to push it out. It was difficult to focus on the group of dangerous strangers and locating the potion inside her simulaniously.

"So if you don't want to kill the Marauders," R J Lupin said, taking a step away from the shadow, "what do you want from them?"

The truth rose in her throat like vomit and it took all her will not to spit it out. She scrambled to come up with a good enough lie, but realising no one would ever be creative enough to generate something plausable, she settled for silence. She knew her mind to be a strong-hold and she would be dammed if any potion they gave her would break it. If only she knew exactly how to fight it!

There was an outbreak of murmuring but the elderly man just watched her calmly, waiting for something. After a few moments he began to hum a cheery tune. The answer to Moony's question burnt and tickled her throat, and Raven imagined it growing larger and larger, like a tumor.

"I think one of them is my father." She finally spat out, relief washing over her. Silence descended like a blanket of snow, covering the entire room. Moony's face drained of all colour, while Padfoot's reddened.

The man with the shocking blue eyes swept up suddenly.

"Alastor, please remove your ropes, it is clear she does not need tying up. If everyone not involved in this could please go and finish dinner - I'm sure Molly has made something lovely."

The boy, Harry Potter, was staring at her as he filed out with the others. He had a strange expression on his face that did not hide the tidal wave of emotions crashing over him.

* * *

As Harry Potter left the living room and lost sight of the strange girl still bound to one of the more rickety arm chairs, he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Are you alright Harry?" Hermione asked him quietly. Ron was next to her, the tips of his ears reddening but his face casual. He was fidgety, nervous.

"You've got nothing to worry about mate. The way that one acts, she's either barmy or Pettigrew's."

Still, Harry worried. The girl with the violet hair and odd forehead jewlery had been forced to take Veritiserum and still hadn't looked like she'd wanted to give up the information. Yet somehow he couldn't match her up with the idea of his father in his head. His father, who had loved his mother enough to die for her, could not have possibly fathered the girl in that room. Even if had his father had made a horrible mistake - and Harry couldn't believe James Potter had - she looked nothing like him.

Mrs Weasley, an unreadable expression on her face, herded them all up to their bedrooms instead of the kitchen while the other silent members of the order headed to the kitchen and closed the door firmly behind them. Harry walked over to his bed and sat down, sending his half-packed trunk and it's contents to the floor. He didn't know what to feel. Half an hour ago Mad-eye had shown him that old photo of the order, and then that girl turned up and held a knife to Ginny's throat...

Harry felt a sudden stab of guilt in his stomach for forgetting to check if she were okay. Ron sat opposite him, trying to gauge his reaction.

_Crack_

"Don't tell me you've gone soft Harry!" George Weasley apparated into the middle of the room, his twin beside him as always.

"The old Harry would have been down there, getting to the bottom of this new mystery." Fred added.

"You've changed." They said together in mock disapointment, grinning. The door opened and Hermione and Ginny crept in, looking fervently down the stairs as if Mrs Weasly might appear any second. They didn't speak. Ginny's face was regaining it's colour and she had changed into a jumper without a cut near the neck.

Harry felt resentment in the pit of his stomach, rather than humor. He already felt like a freak after the whole dementer incident, the trial, the way Dumbledor wouldn't look at him – not to mention the way the daily prophet were treating him. Now he had this girl claiming that either Voldemort's most loyal follower, his god-father, his favourite teacher or his very own father were her long-lost dad.

Fred rolled his eyes at Harry's expression and extracted a flesh-coloured string from his pocket. He waggled his eyebrows, trying to elicit a response out of him.

"We can't use them – mum put that charm on the kitchen door remember?"

"Well remembered, our block-headed brother." Fred said, untangling the cord.

"But she didn't put one on the living room door now, did she?" His George grinned. Harry thought it amazing that they were so unaffected by tonights events. But then, the events didn't really affect them, did they? They'd seen their sister threatened, sure, but she was okay and it seemed to be he, Harry, who was always involved when something went terribly wrong. Still, he couldn't be angry at them for having luck.

There was a scramble as they all hurried for the landing in the hall so Fred could lower the extendable ear level with the door knob. He offered the other end to Harry. With a thrill of trepadition, he placed it to his ear and the others all leaned close. There was a crackle of static, and then the sound came through perfectly clear, as if Dumbledore were standing right next to Harry.

* * *

"My dear, you may call me Professor Dumbledore. What is your name?"

Inside the gloomy living room, only Padfoot, Moony, Dumbledore and a greasy haired man who the Professor had motioned to stay, remained. The Marauders did not look happy about it at all. Raven felt a warm shiver through her, wondering if this new man were Wormtail. She wanted them all here. Though it didn't seem likely that they had all been friends sixteen years ago - he and Padfoot were glaring daggers at each other.

"Raven." Raven said, before she had time to even attempt to stop herself. Her disgusted look as she remembered her inability to lie or even hold back information must have troubled the professor, for the curious spark in his eyes seemed to dampen with sympathy.

"Ah, I forgot, as is bound to happen to even the wisest at times. The Truth Serum was a precaution taken only because of the nature of the house you stumbled into, and only because of the dangerous times we find ourself meeting in. It is up to you if you want to wait until the potions effects fade before we resume our conversation, or if you would prefer to simply carry on."

She thought about it. There was no urge to answer him, as the question had not been direct or fixed enough to have an immediate truth to tell. She decided to talk now. She couldn't wait, now that she was here, in the same room with two, possibly even three, of the four marauders. Besides, it would show she didn't have anything to hide. For some reason, she trusted Dumbledore. His emotions were calm, and he was a thinker. He seemed wise and the way the others behaved around him meant he was clearly the leader. For him to be both so old and so strong, he had to be someone special.

"Ask, I suppose. I want to be able to end the conversation if I choose."

"Naturally Raven."

Something about the way he said her name, without any malice or frustration, made her feel homesick inside, though not for any place she'd been to before.

The Greasy-haired man came and touched his wand to the ropes, apparently dissolving them into thin air. She found her eyes raising to meet his beetle black ones in thanks. The old grizzled man with the blue eye had stalked off without freeing her. Raven breathed deeply and rolled her shoulders, watching the two shell-shocked men melt into their chairs as if afraid she would pounce.

"That stunt you pulled could have got you killed." He muttured in a deep and somehow silky voice, though he didn't sound as if he were that worried about it. More that it irritated him to know of someone who would do something so insane. He took a seat closer to Dumbledore than the Marauders, and she accepted he was not one of them.

"Now, whom- may I ask- was your mother?" Dumbledore began, clasping his hands together.

"My mother is named Arella. But when they met her she was Angela."

"They, meaning the Marauders?" Dumbledor asked gently. He did not so much as glance at Padfoot and Moony. He did not want to tell her who they were, yet, if she did not already know. He did not trust her. Well, she thought, she would have to show them she wans't fooled.

"Yes. Those two." Raven jerked her head towards the men. They looked as if they might flinch, but just surpressed the urge. Dumbledore seemed to acknowledge the defiance in her action.

"She would have been about seventeen. People have mistaken her for my sister, we look so much alike. Only her hair would have been longer. Darker. She doesn't know I'm here, or perhaps she's guessed by now. She didn't raise me and I only came upon the knowledge I had four possible fathers recently."

"How recently?" Dumbledor asked.

"A few days ago. It was pure luck I located these two so quickly."

"And how old are you?" R J Lupin spoke up. Now he avoided looking into her eyes all together.

"I turned sixteen a few months ago."

It was hard for Raven to volunteer so much information. Perhaps she would have felt even more uncomfortable without the serum compelling her to spill anything they wanted. In the absense of the friends she had to keep up appearances for, as silly as that sounded, a little of what Raven imagined she would have grown up to be if she'd never had to control her emotions was emerging. This new Raven felt soft and vulnerable. She wanted her father to remember her mother vividly, to admit she was his. Dumbledor's voice wrenched her from her thoughts.

"Why did your mother not inform the father of her pregnancy?"

"Which one?" She asked, the potion forcing it out of her. She cursed herself and her decision to continue the conversation. However she knew she had to tell them sometime. They would want to know how she had entered this house with all it's magical barriers, and they would want to know soon.

"Which, uh, pregnancy?" Padfoot asked awkwardly. The colour of his face was fading back to normal because he thought her confused. Though he felt Raven looked vaguely familiar, he didn't think he could have fathered a child wihtout noticing. At least, Sirius hoped he hadn't.

"No. Father. I have two. She didn't inform the first father because she thought there was only one."

The four men stared at her as she had sprouted wings. She continued, wanting the story out faster so they would understant quickly.

"She didn't know she was pregnant, when she got involved with a demon." She spat out the word and it tasted coppery on her tongue. "She was offered as a bride by a cult, and he raped her. When he told her she would be pregnant with his child, she believed him."

"A demon?" Dumbledor asked, his tone much more serious now. He didn't appear as if he thought her deranged. Raven thought, with a thrill of relief, that perhaps in the magical world they knew of demons and perhaps even knew of the strange phenominom she had just discovered herself.

"Yes. I thought he was my father, the only father, up until last week. I stumbled across a book. It said that sometimes, if a mortal woman is already pregnant, the demons sperm acts like a virus, infecting the child with it's DNA"

Raven spoke quickly, feeling only the slightest squirm of discomfort over talking about the conditions of her conception. It was less due to squimishness than the fact that talking of it made her feel sympathy for Arella. Sympathy she didn't deserve. Or perhaps, she did deserve it from other people, but not from Raven.

"I have heard of it before." Dumbledor admitted. Raven's eyes lit up. The man she knew as Lupin didn't look surprised, but Padfoot's jaw dropped.

"It sounds ridiculous." he snapped. "Half-demon children are so rare it's unlikey one is born a century."

"That you know of Sirius." Lupin sighed. _Sirius, _Raven thought, savouring the name. Padfoot was Sirius, Prongs was James and Moony was R. J Lupin.

"I was not born on earth. Arella attempted suicide but was saved by the people of the pacifist dimension of Azarath. I was brought up there, believing my father was Trigon. I was raised by monks who taught me to control all my demonic powers, including my emotions, which triggered them."

Raven tried to slow down her speech, but the potion was like lubricant.

"I moved to earth and lived with friends. Now, I'm here."

She sensed a change in the air after her story, but she wasn't sure what it meant. She got a handle on herself and decided not to divulge anything about the Titan's or her mother, or the phrophesy she had taken part in. Robin was always telling her to go with her instincts and trust people more, but she'd thought she'd done enough of that for one night.

"That's how you are able to resist the Veritiserum so well. You are obviously skilled in many arts of the mind." Dumbledore said. He was not flattering her – she didn't think she had been able to resist the potion much at all. Raven shrugged.

"All I need is a simple test. I don't know much about your kind of magic, other than that I could manage it if I was taught, but there are-" she struggled for the word she knew wizards used for the kind of humans she was used to. "-muggle paternaty tests if there arn't any spells for the same thing." She hoped ther would be. A "muggle" test could take days and she didn't savour the thought of hanging around a house full of people who despised her for much longer.

"There is a spell..." Lupin began. She stared back at him. Now he was staring her right in the eye. She felt a shiver shoot up her spine.

"Then lets get it done. If it comes up negative for both of you, I'll ask you if you can point me in the direction of Wormtail. If I find out it's not him... well then, I won't bother Harry Potter unless he wants me to."

She stood up, mentally preparing herself, her heart beating so hard it might have been trying to crash through her ripcage. The two men, Sirius and R J Lupin, stood up- but halted when Dumbledore raised his hand. He appeared deep in thought.

"I'm afraid I can't let that happen quite yet."

"Why?" The three of them demanded simultaniously. Even the greasy-haired man looked surprised. They all felt their necks heat up and sat down, scared at the brief unity they'd just experianced, momentarily forgetting their confusion.

"I must talk with the Order first, and after I will give you the clear explanation you are owed Raven. However, let me say that you strike me as a young woman who does not like to be drawn into the battles of strangers."

With that riddle, Dumbledore left the room, gesturing for the men to follow. They trailed after him like school children, craning for last glances at Raven. On the landing, just before the door was opened, seven people scrambled back to their rooms, whipping behind them a long flesh-coloured string and escaping detection by a second.

* * *

The kitchen of the order was remarkably empty. Most had gone home already, wishing to give those involved privacy and not wanting to witness the spectacle. Those who _had_ wanted to witness it had been sent home with a cold look from Molly. Remaining were every Weasley, an irritated Alastor Moody, an uncomfotable Kingsley and a pale-faced Tonks. Sirius sat quietly at the table, the deep souvenir wrinkles from Azakaban more pronounced than ever. For the first time in a week, Mrs Weasley did not snap at him when he entered the room.

"What was that about Albus?" Remus thundered, angry enough to slam his hands down on the scarred table top as he threw himself into a chair. "Give the girl want she wants so we can come to terms with it and do what must be done."

"I agree." Sirius said darkly, playing with a discarded fork, digging its bent prong into a fissue in the wood. "If she's mine, I want to know about it."

"Feeling sentimental?" Snape asked him, his lip curling. There was a triumph in his eyes that Siruis Black had never wanted to see in his life. Overwhelming hatred rose like bile in his throat, but before he could speak Dumbledore called for silence.

"You heard her say she was the daughter of Trigon." He began, his voice even and hyptonic. He swept his eyes over each person in turn. Sirius did not met his eyes, but Remus stared straight back with a defiance wholly unlike himself.

"She said that one of the Marauders was her father." Sirius inturupted. He was confused about the whole ordeal. It seemed that in the time he'd rotted in Azkaban, his old friend Remus had been out learning about the world and the creatures that inhabited it.

"No, she said he was one of them. Remus can explain." Dumbledore said, without asking. Lupin shot at him a rare look of contempt but began to speak anyway.

"In the case of half-demons who began as humans, it would be correct to say they have two fathers. They have traits from demons that cannot be denied, such as being hiers to their demonic fathers and inheriting their power, becoming one of their kin. However, the fact remains they started off as a normal human child, and contain their human fathers DNA. If Angela Roth was pregnant by one a human, wizard or muggle, then attacked by a demon bent on impregnating her, there is no reason why the child would not have three parents."

"Are you saying," Arthur Weasley asked, ashen faced. "That that girl belongs to either Remus, Sirius, _Peter_ _Pettegrew_ or James, as well as being a dangerous half-demon?"

"Oh I'm sure she's dangerous Arthur, though most of us are at times. She does not seem malicious to me." Dumbledore said gravely. It only served to enrage the group further.

"She held a knife to Ginny's throat-" Molly began to protest, but Dumbledore appeared to silence her with a look.

"She is a confused sixteen year old girl who seems to have been through much." He said sternly, before he was once again inturupted.

"Then why arn't we out casting a Paternos spell right now, so we can end all our confusion?" Sirius asked.

"The demon she mentioned, Trigon!" Dumbledore thundered. The effect was complete silence. "We have intercepted information from Voldemort's inner circle. He has made contact with the demon, and plans to resurect him from where he has apparently been banished. He thinks they will defeat us all together, and if he succeeds he is right – we will be defeated."

The impact of the words rained down on the kitchen. Faces were drawn, strained.

"Raven knows more about her father than any of us could hope to discover without talking to her. More than that, I have reason to believe she was the one to banish her father to limbo in the first place. She has powers able to breach even the most secure of magical fortresses, magic different from ours, and more importantly, from Voldemorts. I think she would be more likely to stick around and help us if she had incentive."

"You're talking about blackmailing her." Remus said, his voice low. Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"Not quite." he replied. "Perhaps it is not entirely moral. But can we afford to be at such a time? I see it as an exchange – we with-hold information in order to save thousands of lives."

"If we explain it to her, she'd probably help us anyway. If she put Trigon away, I doubt she will want him out." Remus argued. He was transitioning back to his old mature self.

"There is another reason I seek to with-hold the results of the Paternos charm from her, but first I will ask you a question. Do any of you remember her mother, or, at the risk of being crude, sleeping with her?" Dumbledore directed his question to the two men gently. Snape would have rolled his eyes if he did not think it childish – in any case his smile was bitter.

There was a silence, in which both Marauders considered themselves sixteen years ago. In which they both vaguely remembered a night they had gone out partying in London to celebrate Jame's decision to ask Lilly to marry him. In which they both remembered coming across a pretty American girl who strongly resembling the girl in the living room, who had been there when the memories of that night ended, and gone when morning broke the next day.

"I remember her, but not sleeping with her." Remus said quietly. He did not notice Tonk's strained expression. Either that or he did not want to see it.

"Same." Sirius agreed gloomily.

"I have some doubt Peter Pettegrew would have made of with a girl as pretty as Raven's mother, if we take for granted what she said about their likeness." Dumbledore said wryly, allowing a small smile.

Despite themselves, both men snorted like teenagers at the thought. It would have been very unlikely.

Snape's sneer became more of a grimace sunken into his face. How arrogant he thought them. How he peversly wished James Potter to be the father of the girl out there. Then he would have proof of how much better he would have been for Lily. He, who would never have even looked at another if she'd choosen him. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen anger creep into his features like shadows descending over a sundial.

"Then there is a chance, perhaps one in three, perhaps more - that Raven is Harry's half sister." Dumbledore said, drawing the attention of the group back to him, as if he were a conductor. The men sobered instantly.

"With all that has happened to him, with all that he will undoubtedly face tomorrow when he returns to school – is it wise to take the chance?"

They all imagined what would happen if they found out James was the father. What it would do to Harry. Mrs Weasley felt her heart breaking for the poor boy. Sirius felt his feelings torn between keeping Harry safe and sane and getting it over with if Raven was his. Remus hated himself for it, but he had to agree with Dumbledore. This Raven was an unknown entity somewhere between girl and woman, human and demon, Wizard and muggle. Her experiences, views, powers and morals were compleatly hazy to them. She could react to their decision any way, except leaving without the information she wanted. She would have to help them.

"Fine." Sirius said darkly.

"Fine." Remus sighed.

They all wondered who would have to give the news to the girl impatiently waiting in the living room.


	4. Blackmail

**I do not claim to own Harry Potter, nor Teen Titans. If I did Lupin would never have died! **

I must say, the reviews you all gave me were art in their own right. I loved hearing from you guys. May it long continue!

* * *

_Eight-fourty PM, Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"The whole things barmy." Ron declared with a sense of finality, as if that was that. Everyone sat around Harry and Ron's room, unnaturally subdued. Even Fred and George were silent, almost brooding.

Harry couldn't think straight. He hadn't imagined things could get worse than they'd been fifteen minutes ago, but it had happened. He didn't know why he had thought that, because he knew from experiance it could always get worse. Though it had never gotten this bad, this fast before. Now not only was this crazy girl possibly his sister, but she was also a Half-Demon.

Harry collapsed onto the bed, suddenly filled with tiredness. His heart was still thumping from almost getting caught listening in on a conversation they certainly wern't meant to hear and he wished he hadn't thrown his half-packed trunk on the floor. According to his watch they had to be up in nine hours, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Thanks to his temper, he would have to stay up to re-pack it.

"There's nothing we can do about it." Harry said, feeling somewhat numb. Despite the nausea he was experiancing, by now he was an expert at dealing with horrible situations. For someone who had just heard what he had, he appeared remarkably calm. Which apparently had the others worried.

Maybe it was because he'd had seen so many things he'd never thought were possible in his life since becoming a wizard, but he could accept Raven being Half-Demon without question. He knew too little about them to be particularly scared, and afterall, his favourite teacher had been a Werewolf. Hagrid was a Half-Giant. Sirius was meant to be a cold-blooded murderer. When Harry thought about it, some of his favourite people were considered by others dangerous outcasts. Then there were compleatly normal people, like the Dursleys...

Though he didn't think that meant he'd be getting pally with Raven anytime soon, he didn't discount it. Now that he knew what she'd come here for, he empathised. He tried to imagine what it would be like if he found out one of his parents were alive - he knew he would not rest without finding them. So he understood, as best he could, that whatever this girl was like normally, the girl holding a knife to Ginny's throat propably wasn't it. And there was only a one in four chance she'd destroy every idea he thought he had about his parents. She might turn out to be... Harry couldn't decide which of the Marauders he would prefer as her father. If it was Sirius, he wasn't sure how he felt. Ever since they'd found each other, he and Sirius had been outsiders themselves. They understood each other. They were linked by James, shared his memory between them. Harry wondered what would happen if it turned out he had a daughter. If their relationship would still be the same.

If Proffeser Lupin was her father, he wasn't sure what he would feel about that either. First he would need to know if Lupin were happy about it. From the look on his face when she blurted out she was looking for her father, Harry didn't think so. Who would want a Half-Demon for a daughter, no matter how understanding you were? Maybe Lupin would get it more than most. Maybe it would be best if it were him.

If Peter Pettegrew was her father... then Harry felt sorry for her just as much as he distrusted her. She definately didn't look like him, but who knew? She'd told them that she looked like her mother, that they were sometimes mistaken for sisters. How much could she resemble her father?

"It can't be true. Demons are myths! Things to keep little kids from wandering off into the woods, or from talking to strangers." Ron reasoned, trying to incite some feeling into his best friend. He disliked Harry melancholy, like now, and enraged, like he'd been on his initial arrival in Grimmauld Place, equally.

"Dumbledore seemed pretty convinced." Harry replied dully.

"Yeah, well..." Ron trailed off, seeming to have no arguement to match the irrefutable judgement of their Headmaster. Hermione looked up, biting her lip. She measured her words carefully, trying to keep the red-head on her left calm and the Boy with the lightening scar on her right out of his depressive thoughts.

"I've read about them. There seems to be a lot of evidence they exist-"

"And you didn't think to mention it before now?" Ginny asked incredulously. Hermione was like Harry - she'd grown up muggle. No surprise could eclipse the initial shock of entering Diagon Alley or Hogwarts for the first time. Discovering Girls could also be Demons was no more terrifying than a particularly bad potions lesson. It just wasn't as big a deal to them.

"Well, they're meant to not care about humans. They're meant to be stuck... _wherever." _Hermione said defensivly. "Look, no one knows anything about them, and they havn't really bothered us, so no one really cares enough to take it seriously I guess."

"But Sirius mentioned Half-Demons." Harry remembered.

"Well, I mean there have been rumours that certain people in history have had demon blood in them but - look! I'm not the expert!" She huffed, running out of information.

"That's a nice change." Ron muttered. They all knew subject must had been vague if that's all Hermione knew about them.

Ginny looked around at their dour faces and shrugged.

"Who cares? Dumbledore will take care of her. We've got school in the morning, and once we're gone we wont be able to find out anyway. Mum certainly wont tell us. Might as well stop worrying about it now."

"I agree with Ginny." Harry said, trying to get the others to leave as he began to pack his things away. He did agree, for the most part. About forgetting Raven. Still, his mind would not stop worrying that she could be his sister. That the whole idea of James and Lilly Potter, couple of the century, would disintegrate if she were. That all of what he'd heard about them would become a lie. That the dead parents he never got to know would become strangers to him. For now, they were kept somewhat alive by the stories he heard from people that knew them. How would he remember them if that glowing testimony were wrong?

Hermione and Ron shared a look and Harry felt his temper rise dangerously close to the surface. Seeing his face, they quickly looked away from each other.

"Well as cheery as tonights been, I think Fred and I will be off." said George, coiling the extendable ears back up and shoving them in his pocket.

"You lot should get to bed too. Wouldn't want _ickle Ronnie the Prefect_ to be tired for his big day tommorow." Fred added in his best imitation of Mrs Weasley, and they both disspeared with a crack. Hermione stared reproachfully at the spot where they'd stood. Ginny grinned as Ron went red. It was a relief to everyone to have the tension lifted.

"Oh don't be stupid Ron." Hermione sighed when she caught sight of him. "They're just jealous. Though they are right, we should all get to bed."

She stood on tip toe and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek, hesitated, and then gave Ron one too. Ginny smirked and the two bade them goodnight. After that Harry thought Ron looked considerably happier. He went about re-packing his trunk, trying to keep his mind off of Raven. When he finally got into bed, he lay awake for a long time thinking about his father. Still, nothing could eclipse the happiness and relief that flooded his belly when he realised this time tomorrow night he would be home, at Hogwarts. With that thought, he drifted off to sleep around two in the morning.

His dreams that night were not of the long coridor he had been walking down for the past month. A dramatic change occured, and instead of wandering towards the door, Harry found himself standing in front of a white marble alter decourated with snakes - both alive and coiled around its base, and ornately carved into its surface. He was holding in his hand a mirror, and on the alter a heavy book with pages of aged parchment lay open. The words were blurred and meaningless to him.

_"You can't kill Her. She's not meant to die." A voice whispered. Harry laughed and looked down at the man kneeling just past the alter. His voice was high and cruel, and at the sound of it the man shivered. _

_"I don't plan to kill the girl Sebastian. I am confident she will be swayed. If she can't be, I, being a merciful Lord, might let you keep the body."_

_"He will not want you to kill Her. He has always said that He wants Her to rule with Him." The man pleaded._

_"I think, brother, that we should ask him about that, don't you?" replied Harry, who leant down to look into the mans eyes. Reflected back in his pupils, Harry saw the palid, snake-like face of Lord Voldemort. _

* * *

_A few hours earlier (Nine PM), Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

After twenty minutes of waiting for someone to return, Raven's anger burnt out. She wanted her explanation, yet no one appeared to give it to her and she became tired. Even though she were in a house only slightly less odd than the people that inhabited it, she found her eyelids begin to droop and her body scream for rest. To distract herself, she stood up to stretch and walked over to the first thing that caught her eye. It was a tapestry, formed from faded (but still glinting) golden threat. It appeared to date back at least a few centuries, and was peppered with suspicious burn marks. Across the top, the motto was inscribed in large letters.

_The most noble and ancient house of Black; Tojours pur _

Always Pure. What kind of a house had a motto like that? Who did it belong to? Raven had come here hoping for answers, but all she had gotten was a plethora of new questions. Though she had initially felt she could trust Dumbledore, that feeling was beginning to dissapear fast, only to be replaced by the bitterness perspective had to offer her. So far he'd done nothing to help her and she couldn't shake the feeling he was a man with a plan. A plan that may not involve her best intrests. Raven certainly did not sense evil from any of them, but that didn't mean they couldn't turn out to be cunning or willing to take advantage of her.

A scuffing noise behind her made her whip around, instictivly causing energy to rise out of her balled fists, ready to fight. A creature roughly the size of a ten year old, with masses of wrinkled skin the colour of parchment and eyes the size of tennis balls shuffled into the room, muttering. It was, presumably, male, with limbs like twigs and wearing an old grubby pillowcase. When it saw Raven, it stopped dead.

"Ah, this is the new girl, the one who claims she is the Masters bastard."

Raven raised an eyebrow at the thing, which behaved as if she were a specimen in a museum rather than a person that was perfectly aware of everything being said. She kept her hands ready with energy, in case it were dangerous. She got the impression whatever it was, it was old and harmless. It didn't seem to notice anything odd about tendrils of black energy encasing her fists.

"I wonder what my poor Mistress would think of her. Yes, she is the bastard child of the traitorous Mster but perhaps she is still pure and Mistress would like her."

She had no idea what the thing was going on about, and she was saved from wondering as the door burst open. Padfoot stood there, his expression furious and directed at the small creature until he caught sight of her hands. She let the energy melt back into her skin, not wanting to scare and upset him when he could be ready to perform whatever spell needed performing.

"Kreacher, get out!" Padfoot hissed. The thing gave his a look full of contempt and shuffled away, muttering about pure blood and mistresses and bastard children. The two of them were left alone in uncomfortable silence. Sirius obviously wished he had brought Moony with him.

"What was that?" She asked, to break the tension.

"House Elf." He grunted, looking at the floor, the tapestry behind her, his shoes -anywhere but in the eyes. "My mother's. We uh... We're ready for you now."

Raven followed him quickly into the hallway, which was lit only by candles. The entire house was eiree and flickering with firelight. Her heart began to beat just as quickly as it had the last time she'd crossed it. She adopted her favourite look of unconcern and as they entered the kitchen, regarded those left from the group with it. She wondered why they were all here. She knew none of their names, yet they were to be present for the largest discovery in her life?

"Well?" She adressed Dumbledore, who sat at the head of the table with a grave expression. She wanted to know why he had taken so long to come to a decision - after all, what decision was there to make?

"We have decided," He said, his voice a calm contrast to the tense emotions surrounding her on every side. "To postpone the performing of the Paternos charm."

"What?" Raven asked hollowly. What buisiness was it of his? What authority did he have to decide that?

"I will not lie to you Raven, though you seem smart enough to read between the lines if I tried. We are in the midst of a war. You may have even begun to notice strange events occuring yourself, perhaps not in the United States where I assume you're from, but in Europe in particular. A very powerful and evil wizard has returned to overthrow our current society, and by that I do not just mean Wizards but muggles as well. He intends to make them little more than slaves. Kill them for sport."

Raven had noticed strange things happening. Odd disapearances. Oil and gas leaks that shouldn't have happened according to Cyborg's calculations. Things that looked like cover-ups. But the world was a strange place sometimes, the Titans did not buy into conspiracy theories lightly, and she didn't see what any of this had to do with a paternity test.

"We have recieved information from a very reliable source that this man, Voldemort, had been made aware of, and is planning to contact, the demon named Trigon."

Upon hearing the name 'Voldemort', the witch with the pink hair dropped her mug into the sink with a loud clatter and several people gasped. Raven noted the only people who did not react were Padfoot, Moony, the man with the greasy black hair and the grizzled man with the electric blue eye.

"Impossible." She replied back calmly. There was no way any wizard could enter the limbo she herself had banished Trigon to and find a way out again. Not when Trigon himself couldn't do it.

"My source is a very reliable one." Dumbledore countered, in the same tone. Though Raven was almost _sure _it could't be possible, fear still stirred to life just under her heart.

"I banished Trigon there myself." She replied, her face betraying no emotion. "Only the lowest of low demons can enter and leave intact. No human could enter, and even if they could, they'd never find their way out again."

"We are not certain Voldemort is human anymore. I trust the information my source provided beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Who is this source?" She asked, becoming impatient. They were off-topic.

"That is a secret even to the rest of the order." He replied. She noticed a few disgruntled expressions among the group. Before Raven could ask, Dumbledore spoke. "Forgive me, I am forgetful tonight. This house you have stumbled into is the headquatres of the Order of the Phoenix, the first defense against Lord Voldemort. You see, most of the wizarding world is under the impression he is dead and will not be convinced otherwise. Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes."

"Until he kills us all." The man with the crazy eye muttered, taking a swig from the flask at his hip.

Raven was mildly surprised they were telling her all this. After all, thirty minutes before she had informed them she was a demon. When Raven had first come to earth the Justice League had refused anything to do with her at the mere mention of demon blood. It was clear they wanted something, but what?

"Why are you telling me this? What does any of this have to do with a Paternity test? With me in general?"

She knew the link was Trigon, but she wans't sure what she was expected to do about a problem she didn't beleive existed. They had beleived her immediatly when she explained the dual father situation but now that seemed more like a willingness to beleive everything and anything without proof.

"We need your help. You have knowledge that could be invaluable in the fight against Voldemort."

Raven had no idea what to think - she needed time. Time to inform herself about this Voldemort, about the seriousness of the situation. She knew, however, she didn't have time.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know. After the Paternity test."

"I think you know already that cannot happen." Dumbledore replied sadly. And he was right - Raven had sensed the moment she'd entered the room that there would be no good news. That she would never get something for nothing, no matter how well intentioned the people she needed it from were. She pursed her lips and tried to convince herself it was anger she felt buidling inside of her, rather than overwhelming disapointment. To come so far so quickly, only to hit a brick wall, was devastating.

"We need not only your knowledge, but your commitment to this fight. If Voldemort wins, it will affect us all. It will end us all. You have power enough to break through the barriers of this house, a magical fortress. You can help us stop him from using Trigon to turn this war in his favour. Right now we are winning, but I daresay that will end the moment Voldemort gets a demon on his side." Dumbledore continued to speak when she stayed silent, his voice filling to the brim with authority, passion and urgency that quelled the energy of everything around him. His blue eyes flashed and everything about the 'elderly' man demanded Raven's co-operation.

"If Voldemort could get through to Trigon - which I doubt! - I don't have the information to even _start_ trying to stop them. I have no proof of anything you tell me, and now that you plan to keep from me the one thing I came here for, no reason to trust your Order either." Raven shot back, the effort from keeping her voice steady causing her legs to tremble slightly.

"If you agree to help us, after you share all you know, you will be a partial member of the Order of the Phoenix. Everything you need to know, you will be told. And when you have done your best to help us eliminate the risk of Trigon helping Voldemort, we will perform the Paternos Charm immediatly."

Raven sat back and took in the scene. She had no idea how hard this Paternos Charm was to perform, but she was sure Dumbledore couldn't be the only person who knew how to do it.

"Neither of you will perform it yourselves?" Raven asked Moony and Padfoot. The two men looked excrutiatingly uncomfortable for a few seconds and then Padfoot firmly shook his head, his eyes once more avoiding Raven's. She took this to mean that they could if they wanted to. But they didn't.

This time frustration did overtake the crushing disapointment she felt, though she didn't show it. Even as a child, lashing out like one was not an option. As 'almost' a woman, it was unthinkable. The veritaserum had worn off, so she felt no urge to say what she really thought.

"Fine." said Raven, the only sign of the turmoil within being a brief curling of her hands into fists. Still, she saw, or rather, felt, a few remaining members of the Order flinch. "But before I tell you anything I will have to find out about this Voldemort. On my own terms." There would be books to read, and then they could fill in any blanks for her.

Dumbledore gave her another sad smile.

"Then I'm afraid you will have to either read very fast, or meet with the Order at Hogwarts. I leave there tonight to resume my duties as headmaster."

"Hogwarts?" Raven asked, quirking an eyebrow at the name.

"I'm sorry, once again I forget that you are new to this world. Hogwarts is a school for young witches and wizards. A place where they learn magic, from ages eleven to seventeen."

She felt like he hadn't really forgotten. Rather, that he was trying to pique her intrest. Not that she needed it. The thought of a school where children could learn magic was intriguing.

"If you wish," Dumbledore added softly. "you could attend."

She sensed surprise from the members of the Order, but she ignored it. Already her mind was doing calculations, running through scenarios, and scouring her emotions.

"I don't have one of those. I don't even know if I could use one." She said, gesturing to the wand R J Lupin casually held in his hand. She knew that objects could be used to focus magical energy, if the body wasn't strong or skilled enough to do it on its own. However, she'd never needed one. No one on Azarath had. Azar had developed a system of meditation and rigorous training from infancy that ensured anyone with magic knew their powers better than they knew themselves. Besides that, Raven was a demon. She had always assumed she could focus her energy herself because she was born with the purpose of wielding great power.

Now she knew there had to be some amount of Wizarding blood inside her, lying untapped by her current means of using power. Hogwarts could teach her to use it, give her an advantage when with the Titans or fighting this new maniac wizard (If he was as powerful as they said). Most of all, attending Hogwarts to learn their magic intrigued her because she might find a way to perform that Paternity charm herself. Not that she wouldn't help them if she found out her father on her own terms (She would, _if_ Trigon was involved) but the satisfaction of helping herself was a great temptation. Raven did not appreciate anyone stopping her from discovering such an important detail about herself, at all.

Without a word R J Lupin sighed and extended his wand, handle first, to her. Raven took it in her hands and felt it warm. Dumbledore's smile was small, but there was a radience behind it. The tip began to glow and she placed it down delicately.

"That settles that." He said cheerfully. Like he and his Order had not just effectively blackmailed her.

* * *

I swear we will get cracking on the action next chapter. I hope you liked it though!


	5. All aboard

**I own nothing, blah.**

_So here is another chapter about a gazillion words long, I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you so so much to everyone who takes the time to read this, and a little extra I love you to those that leave me reviews. Your critism and praise is worth so much to me, as is just hearing what you'd like to happen. _

* * *

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Guest Room_

Raven sat in the spare room Sirius had lent her for the night, staring at the wall. It was nothing more than a blank, dull surface, but it was the perfect view when her mind was so full of the day's events.

_Siruis. Remus. James._

After agreeing to help the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore had finally had the honour of formally introducing her to it's members. She'd barely listened as he'd skimmed over Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley and the plethora of Weasleys, preferring instead to run over and over the words Remus Lupin and Sirius Black like a meditation chant. Raven had no idea what their Marauder titles meant, nor even what a Marauder was specificly, but that didn't matter any more. She had their real names. If she were to call Robin about this right now (which she wouldn't), she'd be able to say she was a daughter of Sirius, Remus, James... or Wormtail.

Sitting in the room now, alone with her thoughts, she pondered briefly why no one had mentioned the fourth man she was searching for. They'd been friends, the four of them, so she had no doubt they at least knew his name. Either they'd forgotten in the 'excitement' or they were deliberately hiding something from her.

Raven shook her head to clear it, and started to unzip her boots. In such a strange situation, the paranoia Robin had instilled in his team was blooming unhindered. Just because these people had drugged and blackmailed her didn't mean there was an ulterior motive behind everything they did or didn't say. Besides, she thought wryly - at least one of them was her family.

Raven thought of how far she'd come in just a few short months while she undressed for bed. This time last year she'd been firmly in the grip of her emotions, too scared to even take comfort or enjoyment in her friends, too afraid to laugh or love at all. She'd done so many impossible things since turning sixteen. Imprisoning Trigon. Confronting her mother (even if nothing she'd been planning to say if she ever got the chance had been said). Locating an alternative father. Raven felt she'd moved fast. Soon she'd add attending a School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to the list. She reminded herself it was alright to do something slowly for a chance - that waiting to find her real father shouldn't matter as long as it happened eventually. Getting angry at the Order would do her no good at all. No matter how badly she wanted to be.

That didn't mean she would try and emulate Starfire's kindness. It definitely didn't mean she would become anyone's puppet. It did mean she would have to be smart. Cunning, even. Raven would not lie down and wait for Dumbledore to come up with another condition, but she wouldn't try and defy his wishes at every turn either.

For a second she did contemplate calling Robin to tell him about exactly what she was using this time off for. She knew she should at least write the team a letter either explaining herself or assuring them she was okay. As tiredness eclipsed the desire, she resolved to do it another day. When things had settled. If they ever would.

* * *

Raven woke early on September the first to a face poking through the door. The woman who she thought was named Molly Weasley asked her to dress and be downstairs in ten minutes. Her demeanour suggested she still didn't trust Raven, though she could hardly blame the woman when she remembered with a stab of guilt the knife she had held to her daughter's throat. Looking out the window to the small park outside, the tired demoness saw only a grey and foggy morning that could not be any more different to the view from the Tower. It was impossible to tell the time from the sky, but since no one was about she guessed it was barely past dawn.

The house was still quiet, but much less sinister than the night before. A gloomy light filtered in from a few windows here and there, but it was hardly creepy compared to the candlelight. She entered the kitchen to find no trace of a recognisable face, bar Mrs Weasley. Instead, at the table sat an enormous man gulping from an equally enormous mug. Everything about the man was huge - from his height and width, which had to be at least double that of an average man, to the wiry mass of hair on his head and chin. A regal-looking barn owl gave her a haunty look from the table-top

"Ah yeh must be Raven!" The man cried, his ruddy face crinkling up into a smile as he set the mug down with thump. Despite having the appearance of a leather-clad mountain, the moment he smiled Raven decided on instinct alone to trust him. She did not do this often, but she did not often sense such warmth from a person either.

"Yes." She replied, unable to muster her sudden affection into any kind of expression or kind words.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Care o' Magical Creatures professor an' Gamekeeper at Hogwarts." He said enthusiasticly, extending a massive hand for her to shake. She did as loosely and hastily as she could, then sat down at the table. Mrs Weasley did not look at her, but instead busied herself with the pans hanging overhead.

"Now Dumbledores sent me to take yeh to Diagon Alley to get yer school supplies. Never heard of anyone gettin' 'em this late. We're goin' ter have ter hurry ."

Before she could say a word he started franticly searching his pockets. The owl hooted softly.

"Aha! An' I got a letter from Dumbledore for yeh." Hagrid said, detaching a letter from the owl's leg and handing it to her. It was sealed with a crest, within which she could just make out the waxy forms of a snake, a lion, some sort of small bear, and ironically, a Raven. She proceeded to read it, unable to shake of a feeling of foreboding.

_Dear Raven,_

_I apologise for not giving you this information in person, but as school commences today I had to be off before morning. I also felt that, to avoid a 'brain overload', last night was not the appropriate time to tell you certain things. _

_Firstly, I have given Hagrid money for your school supplies - Wizarding currency. Consider it payment for your help. As my colleague pointed out to me upon my arrival, our current arrangement could almost be construed as blackmail - _

Raven snorted.

_-which I of course did not intend. I'm sure in time you will come to understand my conditions as formed with the best intentions for most of those involved. _

_You will be placed in Fifth year instead of Sixth for two reasons, the first being that you lack competence in wand magic. The second reason is in the hope you will do a favour not only onto me, but yourself and several others. Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts as a Fifth year, and it is my wish that you befriend him. You may think this strange, considering your suspicions about James Potter, but I believe it would be mutually beneficial. I ask that you do your best to get to know and thus protect Mr Potter. He is, as the Dark Lord's downfall last time, in constant danger. If Death Eaters should find out your identity, you will be under threat also. Please trust Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. I think you will find them resourceful and worthy of your friendship. _

_We will introduce you as a foreign exchange student from the Salem Witches institute and you will be placed in Gryffindor house rather than be sorted along with fellow first years in the interest of remaining inconspicuous. I think it would be wise to keep the circumstances which brought you to the Wizarding world secret unless you find people you would trust enough to divulge them to. I also ask you to not speak of any Marauders to any student, not counting the ones mentioned previously. Remus Lupin taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts not long ago, Sirius in currently in hiding for a crime he is very much innocent of, and we shall have to talk of Wormtail another time. I need not mention how distressing it would be to Mr Potter, nor the attention it would draw, if you started talking of James Potter either. If you have any questions you may ask me on our first meeting, the fifth of September. Harry will show you the way to my office if you need help. I hope you will have read enough about Voldemort by then to allow me to convince you of his plans, and to explain to me and a select few members of the order all you know about Trigon. _

_Good luck on your first day of school, _

_Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_P.S. - Please write your full name and return it to Hogwarts along with the owl. _

Mrs Weasley put plates piled high with bacon in front of each of them. Raven's quiet thank you echoed behind Hagrid's hearty gratitude, but she received no response, while Hagrid earned a fond smile. She wondered when food has last past her lips. The morning before perhaps. It seemed a long time ago.

The contents of the letter sat heavy and insoluble in her mind. Here Dumbledore asked more of her, which, though not a demand, was going to be heard to ignore. To make their first meeting alone she would have to make contact with Harry Potter. Dumbledore's idea of a favour gave her no other choice. That rubbed Raven the wrong way, leaving her feeling like a corralled animal. Her actions were no ones to dictate, especially when it came to making friends. She barely knew how to do such a thing - all her current relationships had formed without any intention on her part, as natural as the wind eroding rock over time.

Raven barely made sense of the talk of Gryffindor and what year she would be put into. Her mind caught on the mention of Marauders, wouldn't let her move on until she'd examined and stored the nuggets of information in the letter like a Squirl gathers nuts for winter. Remus had been a teacher. One who'd taught fighting against evil no less. Sirius had been convicted of a crime, pegged as one thing and sentenced to suffer for it. Wormtail was an enigma.

She didn't need the warning from Dumbledore. She would never have shared her connection to the men. Raven would never feel the urge to share the deepening desire to know them with any stranger, the boy who lived or otherwise. In each Marauder she saw pieces that could easily have been the root of her very own traits. The fight against darkness, suffering in silence. Even the blank slate of Wormtail spoke to her of mystery and the fact people had once tried to shove her into a corner too. No, she doubted she would ever bring herself to share these kinds of feelings even to Cyborg. To do so would be to verbalise foolish fantasies of men she barely knew and to give away the glow of hope that burnt fresh inside her.

Outwardly, Raven showed no signs of stress at all. She flipped the letter and wrote her name on the back, in large cursive. Roth because it was the only one she'd ever used, rather than in honour of her mother or it being her official name. The owl disappeared as soon as she reattached it.

They ate quickly, Mrs Weasley reminding them they had better get going if Raven wanted to make the train. Raven had no idea if they would return to the house before she went to Hogwarts, and the idea that she wouldn't sat goodbye to Remus or Sirius made her uncomfortable. Yet, when she thought about it, what would she say to them? Perhaps the idea of her waking early was their idea - part of some plan to never see her again until one was revealed as her father, when the man in question would have to deal with it. Whatever would happen, she decided she had little control over it, so she brought all her things (her tiny rucksack) downstairs and met Hagrid at the door.

"I jus' wanted to tell yeh, Dumbledore told me all about yeh." Hagrid said, which was an odd way to strike up conversation in Raven's opinion. She had no idea where they were headed and no idea what to say to that, so she simply examined her hands turning blue in the cold.

"I wanted to tell yeh that me and most of the Order don't mind what yeh are."

While that was sweet and all, Raven highly doubted the Order didn't mind what she was.

"I'm a half-breed meself, as yeh probably guessed. Half-giant. Don't see why they'd mind you if they don't mind me." Hagrid added. "Dumbledore always looks out fer people like us. Always gives us a chance. Great man, Dumbledore."

If that was true, Dumbledore hadn't really shown that side of himself yet, but Raven didn't want to contradict Hagrid since he was the first friendly person she'd met in this strange new world. She felt her initial instinct to had been right for once. She could trust this half-giant.

They stood at the edge of the curb for ten minutes in the skull-numbing cold, until a violently purple bus appeared as if from no where. Raven boarded it behind Hagrid without asking questions. She preferred to simply observe the odd phenomenon that seemed part and parcel of British Wizarding life. They took seats (Hargid taking up two and half by himself) and Raven finally spoke.

"Where are we going? Dumbledore said I needed school supplies."

"Ah, Diagon Alley. Got to get yeh a wand and such don' we? Been there before?"

"Yes. It's where I... spotted Remus Lupin." She said quietly, staring out the window at the blurred scenery. This bus was the fastest thing she'd ever been on, and it was making her a little dizzy. Dizzy enough to bring up a subject probably best left alone. Still, Starfire's constant insistence that it was good to talk to people had been beaten into her over time, and if she was going to spill it to anyone she was glad she had chosen the mountain of a man next to her.

"Heard 'bout tha' too." Hagrid said, in a grave sort of stage whisper. He needed have bothered. All the other occupants of the bus were asleep. "Can't say I hope yer fathers James Potter with all that Harry's gone through, mind."

Hagrid said Harry Potter's name with a certain fondness she had heard in the voice of Molly Weasley, among others. Likewise, in the book where she had first read about James Potter and made the initial connection from her mother to the Wizarding world, Harry had been spoken of as a sort of international hero, a poor orphan boy that had a place in the heart of every Wizard and Witch the world over. Well, Raven knew there were worse things than losing parents, yet she felt infected by the concern in Hagrid's voice. Guilt rose up her throat like bile as she tried to remind herself that this was not her fault. Whatever happened, whoever was her father, had been decided by the generation before her. Of course it was her decision to go looking for answers, but who could blame her for that?

"Hmmn." she mumbled. What could she say? She knew Harry as the impulsive, either very brave or very stupid boy who had stood up for that Weasley girl. Nothing more.

"Here we are." Hagrid said, saving her from having to say any more. The bus stopped with a jolt that sent Raven flying into the seat in front of her, bruising her ribs. She picked herself up with a grumble and followed the half-giant off the bus and into the pub through which she had previously entered Diagon Alley.

Just like before, the Alley was magical. Though it was early, the place was already bustling with people. It was filled with spicy scents and bright colours like the 'malls of shopping' that Starfire used to drag Raven to, but it had the added qualities of sound and movement made possible only by magic. Explosions and smoke were commonplace. This would have bothered her if not for that sense that such things were not what magic was all about, that they were merely for the entertainment of the young children all around.

"This way, over to Ollivander's. Bes' wandmaker in the world."

They pushed their way into a small shop crowded by flat, rectangular boxes. Hagrid's size certainly helped them carve a path through the people on the street outside, but inside there was barely room to move. A man appeared at the counter, as suddenly as if conjured from smoke. He was old, but not as old as Dumbledore. The thing that struck Raven most were his oddly coloured eyes. Pale and searching, as if he could see past the girl to the demon within.

"Hagrid, I haven't seen you here since you brought Harry. Surely, not another first year?"

"No Mr Ollivander, Raven's a bit older 'n normal, but she's here for her firs' wand." Hagrid said cheerily.

"Then we had better get started." Olivander replied, his eyes not leaving hers even to blink. Finally he broke eye contact to bring her a pile of those flat, rectangular boxes. He opened the first one, taking a short, lightly stained wand from it and passing it over to her carefully. She lifted it, only to have it snatched from her hands.

"All wrong." He tutted.

They continued like this for some time. The odd Wandmaker would grab her a wand to try out and then yank it from her hands before she even had the chance to flick it, muttering as if it were her fault. Finally he produced a rather thin, dark wand and the moment she picked it up she felt a thrill shoot through her body. Ollivander laughed in delight and took it from her, gently this time.

"Cherry, ten and a quater inches, flexible. Should be apt for transfiguration. Curiously, it's core is a Threstral hair. One of the few wands using that core I have ever made."

"Why is that?" Raven asked, with a feeling of foreboding. Ollivander looked at her, his silvery eyes seeming to drill up against her mind and it's barriers. There was something about his gaze, about the wonder in it, that unnerved her.

"It is a volatile and sometimes uncooperative core. Nevertheless, it has chosen you so I doubt you will have trouble with it."

Raven was determined to uncover the truth behind that half-answer, but felt she would only get more riddles from the Wandmaker. So she paid for the wand with the massive gold galleons Hagrid had presented her with and exited the store, heading for school books. She felt Ollivander's curious silver eyes on her back until she turned the corner out of his sight.

"What's a Threstral?"

"Erm, funny creatures. Misunderstood, like. Look a bit like horses" Hagrid answered. He seemed uncomfortable, so she pressed the subject, reminding herself of Robin during an investigation.

"How so?" she asked, as innocently as a girl like her could manage.

"Well... yeh can only see 'em if yeh've seen death. If yeh've seen someone die."

Hagrid stopped walking, causing a wizard to collide with a _thwack _against his back. He barely noticed the man detach himself and curse, rubbing his nose and glaring, and continued to block the path of many behind him as he regarded Raven with an expression somewhere between frank and kind.

"Same thing fer wands mind. Not a common core, since yeh've got to see someone die teh use it. Even then it's unstable, like Ollivander said. Never heard of someone with one 'till now o'course."

He resumed walking, content he'd said more than the literal meaning of his words. There had been empathy behind them. Raven appreciated it but couldn't help feeling grim. She wondered if having been technically dead before meant the wand had chosen her, or if she was able to utilise the wand because of the sheer volume of people she'd watched die. If those were the reasons she could handle a core plucked from a creature of death. Thinking of Azar and the first death she'd witnessed made her resolve not to dwell on it when there was so much more to worry about.

The unlikely pair spent the rest of the morning in Diagon Alley's selection of shops. In the book store Raven loaded up on not only text books, but the thickest tomes on Wizard History she could find. At that Hagrid chuckled and compared her to Hermione Granger, who was apparently one of Harry's best friends and not only a favourite of Dumbledore. At a store containing all manor of garish and lovely fabrics, she got several sets of robes and a winter cloak that made her feel nostalgic for the deep blue cloak she knew hung in her wardrobe back at Titan's Tower. Hargid assured her she would be able to borrow one of the school Owl's should she feel the need to send a letter, so she bypassed the pet store with a feeling of relief. She'd never looked after another creature in her life, and if Silkie was anything to go by, being a pet owner was a both disgusting and tiresome job.

The one place she didn't feel slightly out of place was the apothecary, where she had to stock up on potion supplies and a cauldron. All her life she'd been brewing small remedies and potions, so it wasn't such a stretch for her to identify everything she'd need. It did feel good to know she wouldn't be starting off a complete beginner at everything. Of course all her new possessions meant she needed to buy a new bag to hold everything in, so she reluctantly brought a small trunk, not liking the feeling of responsibility that came with it. Such a large object made her feel tied down, considering she didn't plan on staying long.

By ten, Hagrid was hurrying her out of the Alley. Apparently the train left at eleven. Traffic was heavy, so when the finally reached King's Cross the station was thick with children and their parents. Hagrid stood in the middle of the platform, cutting the tide of people jostling for their trains, to bid Raven goodbye. Honestly she was glad to make the journey alone, to have time to think and perhaps meditate. In such a stressful environment the organisation of her mind was more important than ever.

"I'll be seein' yeh around Raven." He said, clasping one of her hands in both his gargantuan ones. "Here's yer ticket, oh an' a letter fer Harry when yeh see 'em. From Dumbledore."

She nodded, dryly noting Dumbledore's attempt to force her to talk to Harry Potter, and listened carefully as he explained the magical barrier between the muggle and Wizarding worlds. Her face remained expressionless. If Hagrid found her goodbye cool, he didn't show any sign of it.

Looking inconspicuous was difficult when one had purple hair, so she performed a quick and silent switch from violet to black and then stood around for a good ten minutes so anyone who happened to catch a glimpse would have time to come to the conclusion they were seeing things and go about their business. Then she took deep breath, angled her trolley towards Platform nine and three quarters and crossed the border between the world she knew and one she really had no clue about.

* * *

_11.04 AM, Aboard the Hogwarts Express_

Despite the events of last night, Harry Potter felt only elation from the moment he spotted the scarlett Hogwart's train. The platform, the people -it was a welcome return home after a particularly bad year that had ended with a horrible summer. Still, Harry knew something was different. Even though they were a little late and only just made it onto the train, he had felt eyes of parents on him, and now as he looked for a compartment with Ron and Hermione, he could hear muttering, see first years go pale when they saw him and duck away. It was all very irritating.

The trio entered the final train compartment, only to find Raven slumped against the window, asleep. Ron swore loudly under his breath and immediately Hermione's expression darkened. Harry simply felt a sinking feeling, like his guts had slipped down a few inches. In sleep Raven looked harmless and doll-like, her pale skin almost porcelain and the cold painting red patches on her cheeks. Somehow, her hair was inky black, though all three of them could have sworn it had been almost violet the night before. Harry thought perhaps the mixture of firelight, shock and terror at her sudden apparition hadn't been the best conditions for accurate memories to be formed, though it did make him suddenly question all he knew about her, to see such as simple a detail as hair colour proved false.

"Bloody hell, what is she doing here?" Ron whispered fiercely, staring at Raven's curled up form.

"I suspect Dumbledore invited her." Hermione replied.

Raven's eyes flicked open and she hoisted herself into a sitting position, glaring at the trio.

"If you have a problem with me." said Raven irritably. "How about you sit in another compartment?"

"They're all full." Harry responded, reluctantly sitting on the bench opposite her.

Raven didn't dislike any of them, but through empathy she could feel at least two of them heartily disliked her. She didn't really blame them after what she had done to the Red-head's sister, in fact, she was still angry at herself for that. Still, she wouldn't act hurt or try and apologise – forgiveness for that act of violence could only come from Ginny Weasley herself. The best, and most usually employed, course of action was to ignore them. She dug the only book she had carried with her from Jump to London out of her new rucksack and opened it to where she had left off. Her fingers brushed against the tome on Voldemort she really wanted to get into, but felt it would be strange to be reading about the Wizarding War when she could have learnt all she needed to know from the boy sitting opposite her, who had been responsible for ending it.

"Your hair, it used to be purple." Ron stated, quite rudely. Raven looked up from the chapter on Demon anatomy, her expression bland.

"Yes." She replied, before her eyes came back to rest on the page. The brunette girl sighed.

"Ronald means to ask why it isn't any more."

"I dyed it." Raven shot back quickly. A lie, but a harmless one.

"You killed your hair?" Ron asked, his face screwed up in confusion. This question, formed from the miscommunication between two worlds, reminded Raven so much of Starfire that she was immediately torn between pangs of homesickness and the urge to laugh.

"It's a muggle term." Harry amended. Raven thought the boys seemed placated, but the girl's expression was shrewd, like she disbelieved her.

"I didn't catch your name." She said simply, eyeing Raven's book with curiosity.

"It's Raven." Raven replied, doubtful that the girl hadn't heard it while she'd been forced to give it by Veritaserum.

"I'm Hermione. And this is Ron, and Harry."

"Charmed." she couldn't help replying, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"So Dumbledore did invite you to Hogwarts." Hermione prompted. Raven mentally sighed. This girl did not give up easily.

"Yes. He is the Headmaster."

"I don't mean to be rude." Ron said, his aggressive expression and voice contradicting his words. "But _why?_"

Raven had dealt with enough irritating people to know it was best to ignore him, though his words did remind her of the letter she had in her pocket.

"Here." She passed the letter addressed to Harry Potter over to the boy in question. "Hagrid told me to give it to you. I assume he's a friend of yours."

Harry gingerly opened the letter and began to read, while Ron strained to see over his shoulder. Hermione's eyes were quick and darted over to Raven when she finished, long before either boy had.

"You're here to help?"

Raven had no idea what was in the contents of that letter, so she simply nodded.

"Why?" Harry asked, his green eyes serious as he handed the letter off to Ron. The three of them reminded her of Robin, poking and sifting through a problem to find it's solution, whether that problem be a dispute in the house or an unsolved investigation into a crime.

Perhaps it was the way Ron and Hermione kept glancing at Harry whenever she spoke, or perhaps it was just the way none of them blinked at her choice of reading material, but intuition told her the trio already knew why she had appeared at Grimmauld Place the night before. If they pressed a stranger like they had just done, she would bet they had pressed someone for the meaning behind her apparition last night. She was supposed to get to know these people. Perhaps if they became something resembling friends they might be able to help her perform the Paternity spell – the witch certainly looked capable. Perhaps they could tell her about Wormtail, the marauder everyone was so reluctant to talk about. They might even recognise something in her personality that could only be attributed to a father.

They sat in silence, waiting for Raven's answer. The train chugged along, the scenery whipping from tunnel to field, to lake, to another field. The light caught Harry's hair, and another idea sparked to life in Raven's mind. One single hair from his head. That would be all it would take to complete the slower, but just as accurate, muggle paternity test. Of course it would take three days and she'd probably have to send it to Robin – who would no doubt question her request, delivered by owl, to perform a DNA comparison of two hairs, one of which could only belong to her – but it would get the job done. By the fourth of September she might be able to eliminate a Marauder from her suspect list.

In the back of her mind she suspected Dumbledore knew this, and that was a contributing factor in his decision to ask her to Hogwarts. With her being shepherded out of Grimmauld Place immediately, there had been no time for her to even think about yanking hairs from Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Dumbledore would have know her co-operation was guaranteed, even if she eliminated James Potter as her father. Still, eliminating him would be something. Better than the nothing at all she had right now.

"I think you know why I came looking for the Marauders last night." Raven said, rather than answering Harry's question directly. Their guilty looks confirmed her suspicions. Then, "Dumbledore offered to perform a spell to get me the information I want in exchange for my help."

"The Paternos Charm?" Hermione asked, surprised. Raven thought her rather like a human dictionary.

"What?" Ron asked irritably.

"It's a charm to determine blood relation." She hissed back hurriedly. She and Harry exchanged a look Raven could not decipher.

"No offence," Ron began, sounding very much like her was about to offend her. "but why the bloody hell would Dumbledore need your help? I mean, if you can't do the spell yourself..."

"She got into Headquarters without a wand or knowing the password Ron!" Hermione said. "Voldemort can't do that."

"Plenty of people do magic without wands. Harry blew up his aunt once, remember?" Ron retorted. With some amusement, Raven saw Hermione sigh in exasperation.

"But have you ever heard of anyone who can control it? Or who exclusively uses wand-less magic?"

"Never." Harry agreed.

"As long as your on our side." Ron shrugged.

"I'd be on your side, if it's the right one, even without the blackmail." Raven replied coolly. They descended into uncomfortable silence, broken only once in an hour by a woman pushing a sweets trolley, whom Harry and Ron promptly cleared out before Hermione's expression became striken.

"Oh Ron I forgot! We're meant to be patrolling the corridors!" She moaned, gathering up her things and dragging Ron out of the compartment. The two disappeared, Harry looking extremely sorry to see them go. Raven wanted to keep up the silence, but something niggled her, and pricked at the back of her mind. She knew guilt would not be silenced until she told Harry what she felt she needed to say.

"I'm sorry for showing up. I don't mean to mess with your life, or your family. When I went looking, I had no idea I'd find all this."

Harry nodded, his eyes on the floor. She lapsed back into silence, taking out the Wizarding War book. The first page was a picture of the Potter family, smiling and waving up at her, looking like there was never a secret between them. Raven noted, that apart from the eyes, Harry and James looked excruciatingly alike. His eyes, she saw as he looked out the window at the approaching darkness, belonged to his mother.

* * *

_God I love you Hagrid, but you are one difficult man to write an accent for. I promise to up the mystery, suspence, action, and anything the hell else you guys want in the next chapter. Drop me a line and I'll see what I can do. Or just say hi. I get lonely sometimes you know._


	6. Welcomes

_Once again, I must thank my darlings for their reviews and well wishes. I do not own Harry Potter or Teen Titans, but if I did I swear I'd share my billions with all of you. _

* * *

_Dusk, Hogsmeade Station_

Raven changed into the Hogwart's robes she'd brought with Hagrid just in time. As she made her way back from the bathroom the train was already slowing to a stop, the movie reel of scenery slowing to single gloomy frames as the students rose behind the sliding glass doors of each compartment and prepared to disembark as quickly as they could, like sprinters waiting for the gun shot. She liked the robes - they reminded her of Azarathian attire. It was comforting to know the place she had grown up had at least one thing in common with this strange new world, even if that thing were as improbable as darkly coloured, _swishy _clothing.

The train rattled to a stop, the whistle sounded, and the students burst out everywhere around her. She felt rather like she had run head-first into a wall composed of solid emotions. The feelings of others were visceral to her, unable to be described within the limits of the English language but each different emotion had a colour and a taste, could be painful at times. Azar had managed to sum it up into a word once, but Raven couldn't concentrate enough to remember it with all this foreign angst attacking her from all sides. So instead, she mechanically followed the crowds outside, somehow finding herself next to Harry Potter, who looked just about as pleased as she was about this twist of fate. Thankfully, outside in the brisk Scottish air there was more room to move. Raven gathered her wits about her just in time to notice a glut of the Hogwarts student body was staring in her general direction with a mixture of hostility and interest.

It was hard to know the stares were directed at - the fifth-year the Daily Prophet had just this morning dubbed 'The Boy who Lied', or the stormy exchange student- so each irritably assumed the stares were directed at them, when really it was a mixture of both. Raven dipped away from Harry, not wanting to have to deal with both him and the other curious students but found he was difficult to shake. Her irritation ceased in sight of the carriages she assumed would take them to the castle. In front of each stood skeletal equine creatures that almost made her heart stop. Their skin was black satin, thin enough to see the muscles and bone underneath, their eyes milky white. From their backs sprouted leathery, bat-like wings. She saw that, much like a horse, it had a dark mane and tail. They were hideous.

Looking at them she was reminded of the hideous version of herself she saw in her meditation mirror, and she knew she was connected to them somehow. Perhaps they were from the same hellish world demons had originated, or perhaps she had seen enough death that the creatures seemed like old friends but whatever it was, they seemed to feel it too. As she walked towards what could only be a Thestral, it turned it's reptilian face to her in what she imagined was understanding. Raven felt she was to normal humans as what this creature was to a regular horse. It may have been her imagination, but deep in the pocket of her robe she felt her wand quiver as if alive and aware.

Because of her fascination with these sinister creatures, she barely noticed Harry stop short beside her. When she finally did notice, it seemed he had already terrified a reappeared Ron Weasley by demanding to know who else could see them.

"There's nothing there mate, the carriages are pulling themselves like always." Ron protested uneasily, plainly wondering if his friend had gone insane in his absence. Harry stared at the Thestrals, so frustrated he was just short of stomping his feet. Raven decided to rescue the boys, in part because she felt sympathy, but mostly because their conversation was adding to the massive headache she was accumulating. She was no psychic, but she predicted long mediation sessions in her future.

"I can see them too." She told Harry quietly, as the crowd poured into the carriages around them. Ron gaped at her. "Apparently they're only visible to those who have witnessed death."

The subsequent downward spiral of Harry's emotions upon hearing that, coupled with the depression her own words brought her, led Raven to walk off to seek a carriage as far from Potter and Weasley as possible. She navigated her way through bodies, though not before she heard Ron ask Harry who he thought she'd seen die. _Idiot._

She wondered what he would say if she had whipped around and given them an answer. _'Only the entire Human and Azarathian races, not to mention myself.'_

As luck was a nasty mistress with a twisted sense of humor, Raven found her empty carriage invaded almost immediately by a striking blond boy and his two hulking cronies. His smug expression only faltered for a moment upon seeing her.

"Draco Malfoy." He offered, taking the free seat adjacent to her. Though he spoke quietly Raven prickled at the arrogance in his voice. It was like he expected her to thank him for his intrusion. "And that's Crabbe, and Goyle."

Raven didn't respond, and instead wondered why Wizards all had such odd names. Sure, she hung out with Cyborgs and Starfires but odd names were practically a requirement for Superheros. She had heard mothers at Platform 9 and 3/4s call goodbyes to Absolom's and Pilotte's for Azar's sakes, but Goyle really took the cake if that was this meaty teenagers first name. He grunted.

"You're new here." Draco stated, his white-blond eyebrows almost disappearing beneath his windswept fringe. He was obviously a boy who was accustomed to adoration, that she could judge simply from the way he held himself.

"Well spotted." She muttered, as the carriage took off with a lurch. She willed the Thestral to go faster in her mind, as if she had a direct line to their thoughts. She noted the boy's eyes narrow a fraction.

"What's your name?" He asked carefully. He sounded as if he was wondering if he knew her from somewhere, as if she struck a familiar chord, yet she sensed ulterior motives.

"Raven. Roth." She answered, in the sincere hope that he would leave her alone to stare out the window. She had already suffered this line of questioning at the hands of Ron Weasley. Did all Wizards hide questions inside obvious statements?

"Huh. I don't know any Roths." Draco said, his lip curling up in what was undoubtedly a sneer. "Your, uh, parents... both magical?" He asked smoothly. Raven had no idea of why such a thing was important, but prickled at the mention of parents.

"One of them." She sighed, taking the well-travelled path she had beaten throughout her life and not allowing anything to show on her face and give her away. Being crowded was one thing, but being attacked by questions was another.

"Ah, half-blood." He said quietly, settling into his own thoughts. Apparently, her answer was neither favourable nor horrible in his view, so it warranted no further comment. Still, the word half-blood seemed rude and the silence that followed was oppressive. Raven jumped out of the carriage as soon as it stopped to get away from the three boys. There had been a menacing edge to them, their temperaments or emotions or whatever it was Raven tasted when she got near a person. She didn't trust them.

Draco Malfoy watched her walk calmly away without saying goodbye, and grimaced. He was used to silence as a sign of pants-wetting terror, like in Longbottom or anyone who went against his father. Miss Roth showed no emotion at any point during the strange ride. She had not been intimidated by Crabbe and Goyle's obvious brute strength or by Draco's pointed questions and sneers. She was different even visually - that thing on her forehead had to be more than just a fashion statement.

He knew he would have to send an owl to his father about it no later than tomorrow, or face consequences. Draco had been tasked with one duty, and that was to report everything and anything going on at Hogwarts. The thought of his mission made him break out in a cold sweat - he knew all his information would go directly to the Dark Lord, and he also knew that if he missed anything that would prove later important, it would be better he kill himself this second. The whole thing had plagued his nightmares from the moment he'd received his task, but this new girl had him on edge. There was no reason for her to be here that Draco could see.

There would be no second chances if he did something wrong. With the Dark Lord, one slip up was all that was needed. After one slip up, he would use you to send a message so that no one else would. Even if Draco did right, there would be no rest. He might gain favour, but there would always be another task, with the potential for a mistake. He shook his head. He couldn't think like that. He had to hold on to some hope. She was a half-blood, and the Dark Lord himself was one, though anyone who thought that too strongly in his presence would find themselves on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse. There were plenty of half-blood death eaters, even if they weren't as high up as the pure bloods. If Draco was really lucky, she would turn out to be of no consequence, and his report would go unnoticed by the Dark Lord while at the same time Draco would have shown he was doing what was asked of him.

Still, Draco had never felt more trapped than as he watched Raven enter the Hogwart's Grounds.

* * *

It was something of a shock to Harry and Ron to see Raven cross the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table and sit down next to Dean Thomas, despite the first years still being out in the hall waiting for sorting. To Hermione, not so much, but that didn't mean she was any more pleased about it.

"That's just great." Ron mumbled, giving his place setting a dirty look, as if it were all the cutlery's fault. "Why's she in Gryffindor? She seemed a dead cert' for Slytherin to me."

"Oh Ron, Dumbledore practically told us this would happen in his letter." Hermione sighed, frustrated that once again, her two best friends had failed to read between the lines. At their blank expressions she extended her hand.

"Give me the note." She snapped. " I'll elaborate for you."

She skimmed the parts about hoping the letter found Harry in good health, which Harry had found rather rich considering the Headmaster could have asked Harry about his health the last time they had seen each other, if only the Proffesor hadn't been so studiously avoiding eye contact.

"_Aha_." Hermione breathed, snapping the parchment to illustrate her point. "There."

Harry re-read the line she was indicating, trying to think as she would.

"'Raven is new to this world, as I'm sure you gathered from her violent entry into Grimmauld Place and her lack of a wand. However, she pocesses talents invaluable to the fight against Voldemort.'" Hermione read aloud, in a whisper so the three of them had to be so close their foreheads touched in order to hear her. She flicked her want discreetly and cast a silencing charm just to be sure their nearest neighbours didn't overhear. "See? She must have some power that means Dumbledore has to keep her around. There's no way he would risk sorting her and have her in a house populated by Death Eater offspring, just in case."

Harry could see that. He had often wondered what would have happened to him if he had been sorted into Slytherin and wouldn't trust such a shady girl to their hands.

"and here - 'I think it would be best if you were to make an effort to accommodate her - I get the feeling you would be most helpful to each other. Please remember that people are not what they seem, as you know from your experiences with people like Hagrid and your Professor Lupin.' - Doesn't that make it sound like he wants us to be friendly?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know about you 'Mione, but I don't think we'll be painting each others toenails and talking about _hair dyes_ any time soon." Ron snorted.

"Professor Dumbledore wants us to talk to her." Hermione insisted. "And the way he worded that last part makes me think he either knows we were eavesdropping on them last night, or he wants us to figure out she's half-demon on our own. Mentioning Hagrid and Proffesor Lupin, who both aren't human - he seems to be comparing them."

Harry personally thought she was reading too much into the letter but conceded that on the simple merit of being Hermione, she was probably right.

"We wouldn't have to be genius's to work out she's got special powers that aren't human." Ron said tersely. "_Look _at her."

They all did, and found her staring placidly back at them. Her stare wasn't dreamy like Luna Lovegoods, nor was it intense or angry. Harry thought she looked like she could hear every detail of their conversation and didn't care an iota. Raven didn't drop her gaze, and for all their Gryffindor bravery, the trio were the ones to brake the eye contact with their faces flushed.

"Great Merlin, she's terrifying." Ron winced.

"Well, you two are going to have to start befriending her." Hermione said firmly. Harry looked up accusingly.

"Why us? What gets you out of it?" He demanded. She gave them both a sly look.

"I'll be in the Library, trying to find out exactly what these special powers of hers are. To be honest I don't really trust her as much as I trust Dumbledore's judgement and I want to know everything about half-demons before we quite become a quartet."

"That's our Hermione." Ron grinned.

"Well, someone's got to do it." She replied dryly.

"And the end of last year had me thinking this one would be dull." Harry mumbled. The other two snorted.

Raven kept a close watch on the trio all throughout the welcoming ceremony, though they stopped their discussion (which had clearly been about her) as soon as it started. They consistently avoided eye contact, their attentions apparently seized by the riveting sight of an older witch dressed in tartan carrying an old hat and three-legged stool into the hall. Raven fought the urge to scoff.

Apparently the hat was not just a hat, for gashes formed a sort of face in the dusty fabric, and the thing opened its mouth and started singing, which struck Raven as ridiculous in a numb sort of way. She had seen inanimate objects move of course, usually because she was _making _them move, but never had she seen an object take on it's own personality before, let alone carry a tune. In the song she heard the traits appointed to each of the houses. This alone convinced her she had been put in Gryffindor for convenience - Sure, she had done things requiring an excess of bravery but they had all been motivated (like everything she did) by guilt. The song finished to enthusiastic applause in a show of sickening _school spirit. _

She was sure the older students became extra quiet as the tiny eleven year-olds lined up and took their turn under the hat for sorting just to scare them. She could certainly taste their fear, and was extremely glad she hadn't been forced among them. Not that she was enamoured with 'Gryffindor', where everyone seemed so curious and peppy. Especially when she saw the bored looks at the far table bathed in green, the mellow faces of the table adorned with badgers and the sealed lips of the table bearing her name-sake. She thought that her genetics would make her a Slyntherin by default, though her scholarly upbringing in Azarath might have made her a Ravenclaw. Though there was still the matter of another parent, who must have attended Hogwarts. Perhaps she could get Dumbledore to try and sort her privately - _for fun. _She had always wanted to know whether nature or nurture would win out.

Finally, after about a hundred terrified children had moved, glowing, to their new house tables, the plates in front of her filled with every manner of comfort food imaginable - except for a few she'd loved in her youth, though she could hardly blame Hogwarts for keeping to their own dimension. She tried not to picture Beastboy's and Cyborg's faces if they'd seen such a thing because it was bad for her appetite, but resolved to tell them about it when she next saw them. She especially tried to avoid watching Ron Weasley eat out of the corner of her eye, not only because it was disgusting. Despite not being big on food, Raven managed to eat several platefulls of traditional British dishes and desserts while deftly blocking the attempts of her fellow Gryffindors to intiate conversation.

Finally the plates cleared to their initial sparkle and the Headmaster made some speech about rules and welcoming everyone back, which must have been fairly routine. Only he was inturupted half way by a dumpy toad of a women wearing naught a stitch of clothing that wasn't pink or frilly. Even her voice, high-pitched as if addressing preschoolers, seemed adorned with bows. She began what was certainly the dullest speech in history, dropping words like _loyalty _and _respect_ into every sentance while the staff glowered at her insinuations that the school was mismanaged and needed to be brought to standard. By the time she wound the whole thing up, Raven had ceased to listen and wasn't surprised to see students inspecting their nails, resting their eyes and whispering to each other. Or in the case of a pair of red-headed twins, having a silent but spirited fencing match with their spoons while several girls watched, surpressing giggles. The whole thing was very _adolescent. _Raven wasn't sure if this was bad or good yet.

Dumbledore recovered from the inturuption admirably and dismissed the school. Trying not to feel overwhelmed, she followed the prefects (at a distance) to Gryffindor tower, keeping her eyes on the stone steps. In her opinion the whole thing was decorated in a little too much red and gold, but it was cosy despite the draughty halls. It was here she heard someone mentioning dormitories and cursed Dumbledore. He hadn't mentioned_ that _while he tried to sell her on this foray into the Wizarding world. But nor, she supposed, had he mentioned the winged creatures of death employed by the school as carriage-horses, the staff politics or the nosy student body. Raven promised herself that if an opportunity arose, she would demand she be compensated. Dumbledore had played her from the moment she'd made his acquaintance, and though some of it could have been oversight she didn't believe it. A man like him did not do things that way. Dumbledore had let her in on only what he thought she should know.

Still, nothing to be done about it at the moment. Raven found her room humming with the presence of girls she didn't know, chirping about holidays and tans and other such things of monumental importance. Her new trunk was already there, so she changed as quickly as she could behind her curtain while the other girls stripped off in the open. She did get a few funny looks, but let them think she was a prude. There were reasons Raven couldn't wander around half-naked, only one of them being her rather attention-grabbing tattoo. Before anyone could talk to her, she was in bed.

She had to admit that with the wind howling through the castle and rattling the windows, she felt safe in her warm bed. It was almost pleasant. Without a word to her bunk-mates, she tumbled into a world of dreams.

* * *

_The Dead of Night, Malfoy Manor_

Sebastian was not used to being ordered around. Not used to kneeling, or waiting to be asked before speaking. Or asking permission to go to the bathroom for that matter. He was accustomed to members of his church ducking their heads in respect when they walked past, rushing to open doors for him, deferring to him for every important decision. Though there was no way Sebastian could mistake Lord Voldemort or any of his inbred Death Eaters as intelligent, respectful members of the Church of Blood.

"My Lord." He said, taking a risk and speaking out of turn. But he had been knelt on this godforsaken Mansion's floor for an hour at least, while the reptilian Wizard poured over Sebastian's greatest treasure, the Book of Blood, and he was sure his kneecaps would be a different shape when he was finally allowed to stand sometime in the next century. Also, he really needed to piss.

"Sebastian. I hope you have a good reason for interrupting." Voldemort said genially, though no one was fooled. There was a definite undercurrent of murder in the man's gently amused voice. Bellatrix sat up in her chair, excited for blood spill.

"I hope so my lord." Sebastian replied through gritted teeth. He was, of course, terrified of the Dark Lord who had him imprisoned for the moment. But then, he had been terrified of his father, the former leader of the Church of Blood too. At least until Sebastian had killed him. He was used to tyrants and still found it within him to deliver his respect with customary cheek even if it would get him punished. The punishments were all worth it in the end, when he had and would again stand over the corpse of his former oppressor, gleeful in the knowledge he had brought it about.

"Watch your tongue, brother. Or you might find it missing." Voldemort warned smoothly. "Speak." Sebastian looked down at the Polar Bear rug he knelt on, trying not to show the defiance burning in his eyes. He had no doubt Voldemort would do it - cut out his tongue. That didn't mean he particularly cared. If all went according to plan, his master would be able to give him a new tongue. Hell, if he wanted he would have Voldemort's.

"I wanted to offer - not that I doubt my Lord's ability to decipher the ancient Text of Blood - to make clear on any points you may find troubling. There are sometimes double meanings hidden within the book, which I have spent my life studying."

Bellatrix gasped. To say such a thing was an insult to the Dark Lord, though the man simply smiled pleasantly. Which to Sebastian looked like a grimace.

"Explain the purpose of the portal again." Voldemort demanded, steepling his fingers over what had been Lucius Malfoy's desk. Lucius himself was engaged in the dungeons with some poor soul.

"The Portal, or the Gem, is Trigon's daughter. She was needed initially to summon Him to earth. Though, now, She is needed again. Since She somehow trapped Him in another dimension, She is the only one able to release Him. There is literally no other person powerful enough to undo her magic."

At this, the Dark Lord scowled.

"She will need to be destroyed." He murmured. At this, Sebastian began to sweat. They had gone over this point before after he had accidently let it slip that killing Her would release Trigon, and each time he found himself terrified. Raven was to be his Queen. He could not have Her killed.

"My Lord, She can be swayed. And Trigon specificly wants her to rule with him."

Lord Voldemort met Sebastian's eye and tried to read his mind. Once more, he was met with an infuriating brick wall. Sebastian was as gifted in shielding his thoughts as Raven herself, brought up on the same strict diet of meditation and magic though with darker intent. This made him one of the only people capable of lying to the Dark Lord, though he was too necessary to reaching Trigon to dispose of.

Sebastian stared back, giving nothing away. His expression could only be described as polite but careful.

"How can I trust that they will leave me to earth?" Voldemort demanded. In many ways he was still the arrogant young man he had always been. He had asked this many times before, and each time Sebastian had fed him the same lie.

"Trigon is bound to help whoever frees Him. Not just by His word either. If this magic did not exist, I'm sure the Church of Blood would be dedicated to keeping Trigon trapped forever rather than struggling to free Him. He helps His followers and He is incapable of betraying a partner."

Sebastian was a spectacular liar. After all, you didn't get to murder your father and usurp his position as the head of multi-national ancient cult at the tender age of twenty-two without considerable talents in deception and scheming. In truth, the Church of Blood _hoped_ Trigon would help his followers when he was freed, though Sebastian knew he would be kept alive for his part in the prophecy. And though it was _very_ likely Trigon would protect his underlings, Sebastian _did_ know the most powerful demon in all the cosmos would not put up with an arrogant mortal like Voldemort calling himself partner and making negotiations.

Voldemort himself looked sick at the thought of not being the one in charge. Sebastian knew the feeling all too well, having been kidnapped from the Church of Blood by Voldemorts cronies and forced into a position where he could no longer call the shots. Still, Sebastian had what Lord Voldemort did not – _perception. _Voldemort could not see the big picture past his own power.

And he could not tell when Sebastian was lying.

If he had known that Trigon, who was infinantely more powerful than he, was not guaranteed to offer any protection let alone power to him once he was freed, Sebastian would be dead and the plan to free Trigon dropped before you could scream _Avada Kedavra. _

Voldemort was too enamoured with his own talents and giddy with his own successful resurrection to think he could not tell when the twenty-two year old head of some obscure cult was lying to him. Not being able to read his thoughts was one thing, but missing deception? It was inconceivable to the Dark Lord.

Sebastian expected no less from wizard who had trouble killing a fifteen year old. Just bribe a school mate to kill him in his sleep and be done with it, in his opinion.

"You are telling me the truth." Voldemort said quietly. "Aren't you?"

Sebastian nodded fervently, ever the faithful servant, while thinking how much he would love to see those red eyes lifeless.

"Just to be sure." Voldemort said, business-like as he extracted his wand. "_Crucio_."

A thousand white-hot knives cleaved Sebastian in two but now he was familiar with the feeling. When it was over, he lay panting, sprawled half on the marbled floor of Malfoy manor and half on the head of that poor Polar Bear's skin.

"It is the truth." he gasped, the image of Voldemort's imminent destruction the only thing keeping him sane. Give it time and he would have everything he wanted. The church's lifetime goal of freeing Trigon would be done, Sebastian would have Raven as his bride and they together would spawn a most powerful child. The world would be theirs and Voldemort would be a blip in Sebastian's history.

After a few more rounds of Crucio, in which Bellatrix watched like a dog on heat, Voldemort was convinced.

Alone, Voldemort would loose the war before it really started. He hated to admit it and hadn't out loud, but Dumbledore wasn't going anywhere and sooner or later Fudge would come around to the real version of events. The Order of the Phoenix was taking out his death eaters left and right, before he'd even had a chance to collect them all. The discovery of Trigon's existence was the thing that had made him feel unstoppable again. Brother Blood, the young man relieving himself on Lucuis's finest rug whilst twitching in pain, had provided him with the means to contact Trigon and work out an agreement. Even under torture Brother Sebastian firmly assured him that Trigon would do anything to get out and after all, Voldemort was only asking he leave the Wizarding world alone.

There was the small matter of activating the mirror Sebastian had unearthed and claimed to be the only chink in the armour as it were, the only way to contact Trigon while he was trapped in his daughters prison. Voldemort was confident he would wield it's power in a matter of days, and after that it was the mere task of finding the young girl.

There was a sketch in the Book of Blood, of the girl on her sixteenth birthday. In the first half she was slight, sallow and vulnerable, in the other a scarlet-skinned demon with twin sets of eyes and a ruthless expression. Brother Blood assured him that as of this moment, she was the creature on the left. Though it was an artist's rendering, the work of a seer two hundred years dead, Voldemort was sure it would be simple enough to find and persuade the violet-haired child to join his cause through any means necessary.

If she proved too difficult, he could kill her.

One well-timed _Avada Kedavra _and the world would be his for the taking once more.


	7. The first day Jitters

**_I do not own Teen Titans or Harry Potter. Or anything else. _**

_Hope you all enjoy this chapter - If you've reviewed so far it's dedicated to you, since your the ones than inspire me to keep writting. Dialogue either directly copied, or closely derived, from dialogue in The Order of the Phoenix is intended and marked beginning and end with a *. I take J.K. Rowlings encouragement of Fanfiction as permission to do so and give her full credit and thanks for her work. I'm including these similarities to make my story dovetail nicely with the fifth book, at least until Raven gets a chance to impact life at Hogwats a little more. _

* * *

_2nd September, Fifth-year girls' Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts_

The first thing Raven became aware of was high-pitched chattering, the second, that she must be awake. It was disorientating, being woken by something other than her own body clock, used to early rising as she was. The only times she didn't wake of her own accord was when the shrill cry of the Titan's emergency alarm woke her instead, so as she opened her eyes she was tense, poised to jump out of bed, tug on her uniform and be ready for a fight. Yet instead of the peachy glow of a Californian morning, there was only grey gloom. With a small tug in her chest Raven fully left her dream-state, and realised where she was.

"Lav, where's your lipstick? Not that one, the tangerine! Come on, I know you got it for your Birthday."

"Hmph. Fine, but no complaining when I use your primer."

"Do you think I should charm curls into my hair?"

"Not if it ends up looking like it did when you tried to charm it blond."

There was alight _slap, _followed by giggles.

With a groan Raven up-righted herself and peeked through the hangings. For some reason, the other inhabitants of her dormitory were walking around dressed in the grey box-pleated skirts of the uniform and lacy brassieres, wielding mascara wands and clucking like hens. Steam poured out from under the door of what she assumed was the adjoining bathroom, meaning everyone else in the dormitory was awake. Despite it being any time from five till seven judging by the achromatic sky outside, they were just like Starfire getting ready to go out for pizza. Except worse. Because there was _three _of them.

Before she could duck behind the scarlet curtains and spend the next hour or so meditating as best she could with all the noise, the louder of the two noticed her.

"Oh, you're the exchange student! We wondered, with the extra bed and all. I'm Lavender, and this is Parviti." The girl enthused, her expression unabashedly curious.

"Raven." She muttered back, her voice thick with sleep. She wondered how many more people were going to introduce themselves to her and hoped this would be the last time. She was sick of hearing her own name.

"I love your bindi. And your accent." Parvati said, eyes widening with identical interest.

"Uh, thanks. What time is it?" Raven asked, the words like glue in her mouth as she fought to keep them civil. She craned her neck towards the spot where her alarm clock would sit if this were her room. Of course, it wasn't there. She hadn't seen anything electrical since entering the castle.

"Six-thirty." Parviti answered cheerfully.

"and classes start at..?"

"Nine."

"So why are we up so early?" Raven asked, a little incredulously. Considering she would have to attend classes and appear as if she'd been waving wands her entire life, she thought a sleep in would have been nice.

"It's the first day of school. Got to get ready." Lavender said, in a tone that implied Raven was insane for not guessing this.

"If you want to impress a certain someone." Parviti said, giving Lavender a meaningful look. "Today's the day to start."

She stared at the two girls, marvelling at how people could be so vapid when there was supposedly a war going on. She decided against telling them any boy impressed by tangerine lipstick must be easily impressed indeed since doling out love advice to people who were clearly already getting it from _Cosmo_ or its Witch equivalent was not her area of expertise.

"So why have you got the bindi anyway?" Parvati asked, twirling her wand around a strand of glossy black hair experimentally. Aside from a sudden dry mouth, Raven managed to make up an excuse on the spot.

"I've moved around a lot. Spent some time in Southern Asia, mainly in Nepal. It was traditional there." She answered nonchalantly. She picked Nepal because she thought it unlikely Parvati had come from there, compared to India, so was less likely to start a conversation about it. She probably needn't have worried (since Parvati's accent was clearly British and she was probably as English as Lavender) but there was Robin's paranoia again, rubbing off on her.

"It's so cool that you kept it." The girl responded with a smile. "It's really nice, not like the ones my Gran wears."

Raven thought that was probably because her Gran wore an actual bindi, rather than a gemstone embedded onto her _Anja Chakra _to help keep her demonic tenancies under control. It worried her, the more she thought about her cover story. Anyone who really knew about bindi's would realise hers was little higher on her forehead than was strictly traditional, and that the gemstone was too heavy to be stick-on. Hopefully there would be no such person at Hogwarts, and if they was, they would attribute the discrepancies to ignorance and magic. Still, if she could remove the thing she would. It drew too much attention.

The girls lapsed back into gossiping about who was trying to impress whom in the school, occasionally including Raven in their bitching or asking if she had met so and so yet. She listened with one ear, half-asleep, and nodded in all the right places until a familiar name sparked her attention.

" -don't talk to me about Harry Potter. _So_ obvious he's lying, I mean putting his name in the Goblet last year was bad enough, but he's pathetic to pull this stunt." Lavender was saying, as she styled her dirty blond curls. "The Prophet shouldn't even bother reporting it, it's so sad."

"Keep your big fat mouth shut Lavender." interrupted a familiar savagely, as Hermione Granger emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, her hair dripping steadily onto her white shirt. It seemed Dumbledore had made it impossible for Raven to avoid his choice of friends for her. She couldn't say she would have preferred another gossiping fool to Hermione, though if given a choice at all she'd be sleeping in a private room.

"So you believe his rubbish?" Parvati shot back, while Lavender spluttered indignantly.

"It's not rubbish. Of course I believe Harry. If you've got a different opinion, keep it to yourself."

Raven watched the quarrel with interest. Though she had no idea about half of what they were talking about, it seemed that Albus Dumbledore had a very different opinion of Harry Potter than the rest of the Wizarding world. He had seemed sane enough when she had talked to him, but really, who was she to judge other's sanity?

Hermione stalked over to her bed and threw her towel down, ignoring the dirty looks from the two girls as best she could. They left together soon after, leaving Raven and Hermione alone.

"What was that about?" Raven asked as soon as the door shut behind them. Her exchange with Hermione on the train had been aggravating, but that wouldn't stop her from uncovering every half-truth Dumbledore had told her. She was meant to trust this man to be her guide in this world, yet so far he'd bent the truth about almost everything.

"The Daily Prophet's dismissed Voldemort's return as a lie." Hermione answered stiffly, organising her book bag with the care of a brain surgeon. "They've painted Harry as an attention seeking liar and Dumbledore as an insane old fool."

_Insane maybe,_ Raven thought. _Old, yes. But Fool? Definitely not._ Dumbledore was as cunning as they came, that she was sure of.

"And you're sure he's telling the truth." Raven replied. It was more of a statement than a question. Despite thinking Hermione self-righteous and easily angered, she seemed smart enough. What was merely an invitation to explain her adamancy was taken the wrong way. Hermione turned smartly and fixed Raven with a furious glare.

"Of course he's telling the truth! How can you ask that, if you've been made a partial member of the Order?" She hissed quietly, looking around as if she expected eavesdroppers.

"I'm sorry if I don't seem to wholly believe everything Professor Dumbledore told me on completion of his blackmail." Raven answered dully.

"Then perhaps he is a fool for bringing _you_ here." Hermione replied hotly, cheeks reddening.

It was all in the implication. That because Raven was a demon, and perhaps not as sociable as others would like, that she was dark. Evil. Not to be trusted. She was saved the temptation of arguing back as Hermione grabbed her book bag and exited the room, still sopping wet and furious. Lost within her own thoughts, Raven dressed, packed her bag and somehow managed to find her way down to the Great Hall without getting lost more than twice, thanks to portraits that shouted directions at her.

The four house tables where in the same places as last night, though now they were piled high with breakfast dishes. She sat alone, not caring if this made her look odd, and experimentally took the last piece of toast from the plate in front of her, despite her habit of taking only tea in the morning. There was a second where the plate's surface was covered in crumbs, and then another stack of toast appeared. She felt a bit like she had on her first day on earth, when she had assumed the people would be pacifists like everyone else she knew, and was shocked to instead see violence. It was the same off-kilter feeling of not knowing the rules of the game, of being unsure what might happen next. Though she was fairly good at adapting quickly (especially when compared to Starfire) due to a childhood being expected to learn lessons fast as a matter of life and death, it didn't make her dislike her disadvantaged position in this world anyless.

The Hall was alive with chatter, fraught with first day nerves and a feeling of comfort present in almost every student. Despite the moaning she overheard about the end of the holidays, everyone seemed glad to back, like they saw Hogwarts as a kind of safe harbour. At the staff table she spotted Dumbledore talking to the stern-looking witch who had brought out the sorting hat, and next to her the greasy-haired man who had freed her from Alastor Moody's bindings. She hadn't expected him to teach here, and wondered if it was just him and Dumbledore, or if the whole staff belonged to the Order.

To her dismay, Lavender and Parvati found her again, having somehow endeared herself to them through one action or another. In truth, the girls found her exotic. The combination of California accent and gypsy looks had them torn between asking her if she thought toe rings were back in style or if she knew any boys that surfed. They settled instead for what they knew, and started pointing out students and sharing any gossip they thought would help the new girl. Raven found it tedious but useful. By the time Professor McGonagall started handing out time tables, she had learnt that Draco Malfoy had a rich and influential father that wasn't to be toyed with, that Hermione Granger had gone out with a famous Athlete last year despite being an 'insufferable know-it-all' and that Blaise Zambini was _very fit._

_Whatever that meant._

Most interestingly, through a complicated story involving a Ravenclaw named Cho Chang and Harry Potter's apparent crush on her, she heard all about the ill-fated Triwizard Tournament and it's climax, in which a boy named Cedric was apparently murdered. The details were murky and coloured with Lavender and Parvati's useless theories, but it seemed that night was when Voldemort was resurrected, if he had been at all.

"Ah, Miss Roth. I'm Professor McGonagall. Your head of house and Transfiguration Teacher." The strict-looking woman said when she reached her. From the way the woman peered down at her, Raven got the feeling she did not approve of her admission to the school. "The Headmaster said you might be behind, please come with me so we can sort out your time table."

Feeling that they were not really going to be talking about time tables, Raven followed the woman as all the eyes in the Great Hall swivelled to follow her out. They walked for a few minutes until McGonagall reached a large door, tapped it twice with her wand and muttered, on which it swung open to admit them entry. Raven took in the place, dryly noting it must be her office. Every stone brick wall was draped with Gryffindor flags, and even the desk was engraved with a lion.

"Please, sit."

Raven stood uncomfortably, seeing no chairs so sit on until with a lazy flick of a wand, a straight-backed wooden one was conjured for her. She sat down gingerly, half expecting the thing to vanish into the thin air from which it had come as soon as it had to bear her weight.

"Now, Dumbledore has told me of your... unusual situation." McGonagall appraised Raven with sharp, searching eyes. This was not a woman, she felt, who would appreciate or even tolerate sarcasm. That didn't mean she would refrain from her natural way of reply, but it was an important thing to note.

"He seems to have told a lot of people." Raven replied lightly. If possible, the Professors gaze became even sterner, her tone even brisker, giving the younger woman the impression of being tossed out into an arctic wind.

"Albus Dumbledore deserves your respect." She said, in her clipped Scottish brogue. "I shall expect it from now on. We have _never_ had a fifth-year who hasn't so match as transfigured a toothpick before. Many of the Professors here would not have even considered teaching you if Dumbledore insisted you were important to the Order"

_Ah, so not just Snape_, she mused.

"To make it easier for you, you will take the same classes as Harry Potter, and, incidentally, Ron Weasley. We all felt Miss Granger's workload far too much for a new Witch."

Dumbledore obviously _really_, really wanted Raven to be friends with them.

"Here is your timetable-" The Professor handed her a slip of parchment. "This castle is large and things often change, so it's easy to get lost. Best you stick to Mr Potter like glue. Newness does not encourage leniency towards lateness at this school. Nor will your exchange student status encourage leniency in any other infractions of the school rules. Am I clear?"

Biting back the urge to give her lip, Raven nodded instead, her face a blank canvas. Professor McGonagall regarded it with suspicion but all the same walked to the door and held it open for her.

"I will give Miss Granger the responsibility of helping you as long as it doesn't interfere with her school work. Trust me, Miss Roth, you will need it. Personally I think it a little dangerous to let you run around masquerading as a fifth year when you haven't used a wand before, but Professor Dumbledore assures me you have considerable talents. Enjoy your first day and try to stay out of trouble."

With the barest hint of a scowl, Raven exited the room and somehow managed to find her way back to the hall before it was emptied. Not that she expected wand-magic to be a simple task, but she refused to ask Hermione Granger for help. Somehow, she would muddle her own way through. Besides, she was only here to help the Order. After that, she'd get the knowledge of who her father was, and go. No need to make ties, lay down roots. She would not be bound to this place when she had a wonderful home already, filled with people that not only actually liked her, but that she liked in turn. Of course, maybe she was giving too much credit to Beastboy, though that could be attributed to the memory suppressant that was distance.

Deep in thought, she followed the golden trio from a good distance to their first class, History of Magic. Being an avid collector of stories (At least up until the Malchior debacle) she was expecting this to pique her interest. Yet once her surprise on discovering the teacher was a ghost faded, there was really nothing of interest to occupy her thoughts for the lesson. The Professor had a voice like a muted radio, and his lecture on Giant wars was coma-inducing. She spent the time observing her classmates swap notes and catch up on sleep. If this was really the great institution that spat out Britain's finest Witches and Wizards, Raven figured she was better off in the muggle world anyway.

The next class wiped that thought from her mind. The dungeons were dark and reeked of mildew, but they had a magical ambience hard to ignore. Energy hummed down there, like magic had a pulse and was part of every brick. It turned out her professor was Serverus Snape, who was far more sarcastic and mean than he'd been to her back at Grimmauld Place, though he showed no sign that he had ever met her before.

"Settle down." He ordered, the door slamming behind him. The students rscampered to their seats and had their books out by the time he had swept to the front of the class, as well trained as soldiers. One half of the class was entirely Slytherin, so she took the only spare seat on the Gryffindor table, next to a trembling boy she thought was called Neville. This class wouldn't have lasted in a world where they had to conceal their emotions - though each student was trying to remain perfectly still and calm, many of the Gryffindors looked at their potions master with barely concealed apprehension and fear, while anticipation shone on the faces of the Slytherins like beacons.

"Ah, I see we have the pleasure of welcoming a new student into our midst. Miss Roth, I can only hope the Salem Witches institute has prepared you to work at the standard I expect." Snape said silkily. He seemed to have suddenly decided to dislike her. Not that Raven really cared. She was used to it by now, so her calm expression remained fixed and sincere as she met his eyes. This only unnerved him for a second, before he started on some spiel she imagined he gave his students every year, on some extremely important tests they were sitting in June. Raven could only pray to Azar she wouldn't be around that long.

*"Today we are mixing an O.W.L level potion - The Draught of Peace, meant to sooth agitation and calm anxiety. Please pay close attention to what you are doing, least you put an unlucky volunteer into a deep and possibly irreversible sleep."* He told the class ominously, his eyes coming to rest on the boy she sat next to, who shivered. With a wave of his wand, a list of ingredients appeared on the blackboard and he bid them to start.

Here Raven felt, for the first time, that she might be able to carve a place for herself in this world if she so desired. Potions were familiar. Purely because the Teen Titans had no money to spare once Cyborg gutted the budget for new technology, it was up to her to make potions to cure headaches, balms to soothe burns and solutions to heal scrapes. That is, if she didn't want to waste time and energy healing her team mates herself. Ironically, to avoid playful accusations of Witchcraft, she had made her work seem like that of a Pharmacist's rather than a Sorcerer's.

Though she had often contemplated transferring these skills to medicine if the Titan's didn't last forever, it seemed she'd do just as well with them in the magical world. So even with Snape stalking the room like an overgrown bat, muttering about the poor quality of his student's work, she managed to complete her potion in time, despite it's inclusion of unfamiliar ingredients she would never get her hands on in Jump without a serious interrogation from Robin. The same could not be said for everyone else.

*"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"* The Professor sneered at Harry's cauldron, which was by the end of class issuing steel-grey steam rather than silvery mist. Something in his tone of voice, and in the way the Slytherins looked up eagerly upon hearing it, made her think that the special malice in it was reserved for Potter only. If Snape was trying to distance himself from the Order by making it appear as if he would never act to protect Harry, he was doing an exquisite job.

The resulting bickering meant the boy next to her, who thankfully hadn't thought to introduce himself, sagged with relief when it became apparent there would be no time for Snape to see the gelatinous mess he had managed to create. Harry stormed out of class seething, with his best friends following close behind, offering words of comfort. It all seemed very odd to her, this intense loathing they had for their Professor. Sure, the man was curt and unpleasant, but he was on their side when it mattered, wasn't he? And Harry had read the instructions wrong, so he could hardly blame Snape for his own carelessness. When she heard him snap at his two friends, her opinion of him nose-dived further south. Perhaps there was some stock in what Lavender and Parvati had been saying this morning. She resolved to discount most of what her new headmaster had told her in favour of making up her own mind. So far, it didn't look like she and the trio would become fast friends. They simply did not trust each other.

The day progressed in a blur of magical disciplines, each more baffling than the last. She was at first secretly distressed to discover she had absolutely no talent in Divination. Parviti and Lavender could apparently construct each other's future out of the mushy remains of some god-awful tea, whereas she saw only unattractive lumps. Half-way through the lesson she had made up her mind that Professor Trelawny had to be a fraud, or at least a terrible teacher who focused more on maintaining the heady smell of incense that permeated her hot little tower room than accurate predictions. Perhaps Raven was a little predisposed to dislike Divination, considering her hatred of prophecies, though looking around at the other students she felt she was being more than fair.

Defence against the Dark Arts was little better. Raven had come in with no expectations, having no idea how the subject could be taught, and even she was disappointed with the lesson. Professor Umbridge was a new appointment yet ten minutes into the lesson already heartily disliked. Apparently DADA lessons were often practical, so the announcement wands would be away for the year was met with loud protests, largely from Harry Potter.

Secretly, Raven agreed. Being a Superhero was what she considered the reality of Defense Against the Dark Arts, at least in the 'muggle' world, and the Titan's certainly never got anywhere through careful planning alone. Training sessions were the closest to what a DADA lesson should resemble, when she thought about it. Cyborg didn't build the T-car by sitting on the couch and watching _Pimp my Ride_. Robin didn't get into peak physical condition by reading _Martial Arts for Dummies. _And Beastboy definatly didn't get any funnier after watching the Comedy Channel. So why theory for fighting Dark Magic?

Of course, instead of presenting a logical argument like Hermione Granger, Harry Potter (and a few of his class mates) started shouting. He was a hot-head, that had been clear from the second he jumped up to defend Ginny Weasley despite Raven's warnings. Having spent her entire life reigned in, she found his lack of control juvenile. However, it did give her some possible insight into Dumbledore's plans. He had said they would be able to help each other. Perhaps she was meant to help Harry _behave_.

*"I do not wish to critisize the way things are run at this school." Umbridge had said, in the face of water-tight argument for using magic in a magic-based class, in that patronising surgery tone of hers. "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention," She had added with a laugh. "-extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin, " Dean Thomas had countered angrily. "He was the best we ever-"*

Umbridge had interrupted and carried on with her Ministry approved reasoning, while Harry got steadily more furious and lashed out in the most dramatic way possible (which was apparently saying _Lord Voldemort_ out loud, according to the reactions she observed). For a while Raven had sat frozen, unable to follow the verbal tennis match between teacher and students. The mention of Remus Lupin in her class had caught her off guard. She was so used to being alone in this world that she found herself forgetting the possible fathers out there, especially when she was trying to focus on creating an aura of nonchalance in the face of impossible and frequent magical occurrences. However, it was the half breed comment that had her reeling. Half _what, _exactly?

After the bell rang, she rushed upstairs while the others headed down to dinner. It was time to crack open those Wizarding History books and inform herself about this mysterious Lord Voldemort. The reactions to Harry saying the name out-loud had been uniform all throughout the class - gasps, involuntary shivers, choking, ticks. Horror at the mere mention of a man dead for fourteen years. It all indicated that this Wizard had been a new breed of evil, and that worried her more than she cared to admit. When Dumbledore had first made his claims about Voldemort and Trigon attempting to work together she'd been sceptacle at first. Now the reactions of people who hadn't even been alive during Voldemort's reign of terror made her reconsider her initial reaction.

If he was as powerful as they said, and indeed back, she would stay on at Hogwarts to help the Order even if she did get the results of the DNA test she planned to do as soon as possible. She wouldn't go home until she was sure Trigon was safe and sound in his prison. Right now though, what Raven needed was bargaining power. Because it was hard to concentrate with Remus Lupin's half-blood status running through her mind.

* * *

_I'll admit not much happens here, but trust me, the next chapter is half-done and even I'm laughing in parts. Which is a bit narcistic considering I'm the one writting it. Ah well. _


	8. A Little Wand Problem

**Sorry for the massive wait my lovlies, I'll try not to let it happen again. I hope this is less 'filler' than the last chapter, but I felt like I should show how Raven's first day went. Apparently, not as bad as her second day...**

* * *

_3rd of September, Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry_

Harry Potter was not a happy Wizard. Thanks to his shouting match with Umbridge, and Hogwart's infamous chain of gossip, everyone had been reminded of his supposed insanity by dinner the night before, and were still interested in him at Breakfast. The comments he overheard, presumably meant to provoke him into an uncontrollable rage, were getting more and more outlandish, not to mention insensitive. Before Harry had even buttered his toast a Slytherin had walked ever so slowly past, wondering aloud whether Harry had offed Cedric himself and if so, how he'd done it. Upon turning around to respond, he came face to face with a tearful Cho Chang, who caught his eye before sprinting out of the Great Hall. Ron managed to turn his attempt to hold Harry back from a fight into an awkward pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it mate. They'll all know the truth in the end." He said, in a very heavy, un-Ron-like tone.

"Yeah, well, what do we all do until then?" Harry snapped, his stomach doing back flips at the thought of Cho.

"Please don't bite his head off Harry. He was only trying to help." Hermione said tiredly, sinking down beside him. He turned to bite her head off instead, but stopped short. Her eyes were shadowed with dark circles and her skin was about a shade paler than usual. Yet, she had a sort of steely glint in her eye as she piled her plate with Bacon. It was hard to mistake her for anything other than Hermione up after a long night studying.

"What's the matter 'mione?" Ron asked cautiously, as she shovelled food into her mouth as fast as she could possibly go.

"It's _her._" She muttered, her eyes flicking down the table to rest on the girl wedged between Parvati and Lavender, sipping tea with a distasteful expression. Raven. Harry suddenly knew exactly what she meant.

"I know. She's so..." Harry could not put into words exactly what it was he meant, but Ron nodded in understanding.

"I came back from dinner to find her sitting in our room, books piled everywhere, reading up about you-know-who like she's interested in helping the Order. Yet, she sides with Lavender the moment she calls you a liar." Hermione bristled. "Well, not really siding exactly, but she doesn't have to, does she? It's the way she looks at you, or makes a comment. I had to go down to the Library after that, but I couldn't find anything on demons. I expect we'll have to look in the restricted section."

Harry didn't welcome the news that Seamus wasn't the only Gryffindor who didn't believe his version of events, but at that second he was too preoccupied with Raven to care. He had felt the half-demon's eyes on him several times since their meeting on the train. Just thinking about her gave him the chills. It was the way she seemed to know what they were thinking, and he wouldn't put it past her to have a few dangerous powers,_ exactly_ like mind reading. He couldn't think of her apology on the train as a positive point exactly, because along with it came the painful memory of why she was here in the first place and of what that could mean for his future. Harry could not bring himself to trust her until Hermione figured out exactly what she was.

"Wait - 'Mione. We're prefects now, aren't we? We can use the restricted section." Ron said slowly. Hermione lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh Ron, you're a genius!" She exclaimed, pushing her plate away and planting a kiss on his cheek. "I have to go to the Library before class. We'll have her figured out before the end of the week!"

Ron goggled after her and Harry shook his head, wondering when that sticky issue would resolve itself. In the corner of his eye, he saw Raven flick her head in their direction, one eyebrow cocked in question, before rejoining her conversation with Neville. He found it odd that no one else noticed anything off about Raven, but maybe it was because they didn't know what she was. Harry didn't like to think he was prejudiced, knowing and loving so many 'half-breeds', though there was a huge leap from trusting Hagrid, who had shepherded him into the Wizarding World and clearly didn't have a violent bone in his huge body, to the shady girl he knew was the daughter of an evil thing more powerful than Voldemort had ever been. Every other student just seemed to see her as an exotic girl with a talent for Sarcasm. Harry did have to admit she had nice eyes. Then he thought of Cho running out in tears and his stomach gave another heave. Between Raven and Umbridge and Cho, he was beginning to think women were having more of a strain on him than Lord Voldemort.

"Not really hungry." He murmured.

"Huh?" Ron asked, staring off into space.

They had double-charms with the Ravenclaws up first, in which they received another lecture on the importance of O.W.L.s, though from Flitwick it was far more pleasant than it had been with Snape. Harry kept his eye on Raven the entire time, noticing she never sat next to the same person twice, or initiated conversations. Though he got an odd feeling she knew he was observing her, her expression was like a mask that never slipped. _Neutral_, was the only word he could think of to describe it. Whatever you called it, it was _unnatural._

"Now, today we will be revising Summoning Charms. They're bound to be in your O.W.L's so I want everyone able to perform one satisfactorily before the end of the week. Remember, _Accio_, in the direction of the object you wish to summon!"

Hermione caught Harry's eye and smiled, and he had a brief but happy memory of summoning his Firebolt to escape a Horntail after Hermione's careful tuition. Confidently, he summoned his quill from his bag to warm up while students began summoning objects wildly from across the room. Charms was noisy and light-hearted by nature, so Fllitwick was humming as he began to grade holiday assignments, leaving them to it. Forgetting himself for a second, Harry pointed his wand at Seamus's hat and watch as it zoomed into his outstretched hand. There was a moment when their eyes met, and Harry's grin slid off his face and his cheeks became hot as the memory of his golden dragon egg was replaced by Seamus calling him a liar the night before. Then Seamus summoned it back, his expression stormy.

Hoping no one noticed, he kept his head down, embarrassment and anger coursing through him. Why did Seamus have to be such a prick? Why did his mother have to be so stupid? He wished he could shake every single person who didn't believe him until they saw sense, wished he could rip up every prophet delivered to the breakfast table before they could read all the articles ridiculing him, wished he could force Dumbledore to _talk_ to him rather than sending him cryptic letters about making new friends. Only in the Graveyard with Voldemort, as he watched Cedric fall to the ground in a burst of Green light, had he ever felt so impotent.

"Oi." Ron nudged him. "Look at Raven."

He looked up, to see Raven sitting at her desk holding her rather darkly-coloured wand as if it might burn her. Terry Boot and a few others sitting around her were staring uneasily.

"Accio." She said quietly, aiming directly at the charms text book in front of her. Nothing happened.

"She's been trying the whole lesson." Ron whispered. Hermione looked up, curious. To Raven's credit and Harry's amazement, the attention didn't faze her. The unconcerned expression didn't slip once, and she continued to attempt the charm. After five minutes, the entire class was covertly watching and Professor Flitwich had noticed.

"Ah, Miss Roth, welcome to Hogwarts." He said warmly, walking over to her. His head barely cleared the desk.

"Thanks." She replied, her voice about as warm and inviting as a rotting corpse.

"Did Salem's not cover the Summoning Charm in fourth year? No matter, there's a first try for everything. It's all in the visualisation." He said, unfazed. He was kind enough to leave her to it and get other students to demonstrate their best summoning charm, but as Harry watched Raven's spell work didn't get any better. He doubted it was the wand - He assumed it was one of Olivander's, and if the wand didn't agree with her something probably would have blown up by now. Even Hermione couldn't find an explanation for it. By the end of the double lesson Neville could have summoned Flitwick if he'd wanted to, yet she couldn't coax any sign of magic. Flitwick set her "Practise, and lots of it Miss Roth." and asked to speak with her about her transfer during break.

"You would think," Hermione said during break, with a touch of smugness that came from the discovery she'd over-estimated her opponent. "That her high and mighty attitude might come with some magic to back it up."

"It was bizarre." Ron agreed. "I mean, even kids can make smoke or light or _something_. 'Mione, you could perform spells on the train before we even set foot in Hogwarts."

"I just hope Dumbledore's right, and she has something else up her sleeve to help the fight against Voldemort." Harry said darkly. His comment compelled Hermione to make plans to discover just what those secret talents might be during lunch. The only thing worse than being outperformed in school by a girl she disliked would be having the Order rely on that girl to defeat Voldemort, in her mind.

Double Transfiguration with the Slytherin's went better for Raven, but that was only because Professor McGonagall set them to work on Vanishing Spells, which were horribly difficult. No one but Hermione managed to vanish her snail, but even so McGonagall noticed Raven's lack of any progress and asked to speak to her during lunch.

Harry watched her throughout the rest of the day (he had a suspicion everyone else was now, so didn't feel as wierd about it) and saw she got on fine when there was no wands involved. He couldn't imagine thinking of his own Phoenix-feather wand as anything less than precious - it was worn smooth from years of gripping it, warmed to his touch and by now felt like an extension of his hand - yet Raven didn't even keep hers close. Whereas everyone else kept theirs in their robe pockets for easy access, hers was stowed away with her books at the end of every lesson. By the time Hermione joined them at dinner after another quick run to the Library, their year was buzzing with the knowledge that the haunty exchange student hadn't been able to perform one bit of magic all day.

"Sure, she's 'pretty', but her head _must_ be full of air..."

"I just asked her if she'd like me to show her around Hogsmeade next time there's a visit, since she's new and all, and she had the nerve to tell me to leave_ her_ alone. At least _I _can charm my way out of a paperbag..."

"I blame the American schooling system..."

"Half-blood, _yeah right_. More like squib. God Lord, Dumbledore _must_ be senile to have let her in..."

"Oh well," Harry said, ladelling stew onto his plate. "Makes a nice change from them talking about how much of an attention-starved liar I am."

His dislike for Raven had almost turned to sympathy for a second, until he saw Ginny take a seat as far away from the half-demon as she could, probably remembering the knife attack not a week past. He worried that she wasn't whatever Dumbledore thought she was, whether she was fooling them all, or she really was magically challenged. Somehow, she didn't seem squip-like at all to Harry, despite her poor performance so far.

* * *

Raven's first ever week of structured education flew by, spent for the most part locked in a frustrated battle with her wand. Despite the initial connection she had felt with it in Olivander's shop, silly as that sounded, now it was little more than an expensive stick in her hands.

This confused everyone, but no one more so than herself. From birth, she had been taught to do extreme forms of magic at an alarmingly fast rate. Her form of meditation was usually unattainable for all but the most skilled Azarathians and even Malchior had been awed at her progress under his tuition. Yet now she was struggling to cast any type of spell whatsoever with this wand, when even the most idiotic of Hogwart's pupil was getting by. Raven could attribute some of her past success to the environments she had learnt her previous magical disciplines in. When learning to control her natural-born magic she had been under constant pressure and threat of murdering those around her should she fail to excell, and when learning dark magic with Malchior she had been trying so hard to please him under the thrill of first love. Though she knew that she couldn't blame her lack of progress completely, or even at all, on the environment at Hogwart's being too relaxed.

For a start, she _was_ under pressure to succeed. She had never before failed at something she was meant to be able to do and to start now was unacceptable. The teachers felt the same. Apparently no one (they knew of) who had been matched with a wand had even been unable to use it before. So any of her free time not spent in the library independently researching her problem was spent in remedial_-every-subject-with-a-wand_ lessons after normal classes_. _The Professors tried their best to help her catch up on five years of magical learning, but found she defied all logic. At first, they had assumed she wasn't studying the material, but quizzes on incantations and wand movements found that she was inexplicably incompetent rather than lazy. They started her off with the most simple of spells, incantations like _Wingardium Leviosa, _meant for first years. It made no difference. Each and every time she failed to elicit a response from her wand and felt her nerves winding tighter. Professor McGonigall in particular seemed just as concerned as she was, and Raven guessed this was because it certainly seemed as if Dumbledore had overestimated her usefulness to the order. It seemed as if her wand, which had chosen her back in Diagon Alley, had simply decided it didn't like her all that much after all. The day of her planned meeting with the headmaster, Thursday the fifth, she had received an owl informing her that he feared she had enough to deal with already, and they would meet at a later date. It infuriated her that he wanted to postpone their much-needed discussion of how things stood, but she was forced to accept it on the grounds that he was probably right. Without the ability to perform wand magic it didn't matter if she believed Voldemort was back or not, because she was almost useless. In the back of her mind, it made her afraid that the delay in her magical skills meant a further delay in finding out the identity of her elusive human father.

In regular classes Raven found herself fighting the urge to resort to her demonic powers or even Malchior's dark magic at times in an effort to show her professors and fellow students that she could do _something_ other than sit at her desk chanting an incantation to no effect. Next to her, Neville Longbottom flourished, the teachers' attention diverted away long enough for him to get the hang of a spell before nerves got in the way. He, at least, always had a grateful smile to offer her. She probably would have told him to stop smiling so damn much, if she hadn't needed him to light her cauldron for her in Potions (Would it kill Professor Snape to leave some matches lying around?)

Regrettably, Parvati and Lavender thought her incompetence adorable and stuck with her_. _Her unwillingness to make friends and aptitude for some subjects combined with hopeless incompetence in others led to the theory ( spread fiercely by Lavender and Parvati) that Salem Witches Institute was very new age, and had preferred to focus on subjects like Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and presumably flower arranging, rather than wand work. Raven's two new best friends were convinced she refused to initiate conversations, actively make friends and socialise in general because she was embarrassed about being _slow_, no matter how many sarcastic remarks she made to the contrary. Apparently the girls didn't _get sarcasm. _Those students that did, and had been on the receiving end of what they saw as odd, hostile behavior, gave her a new nickname – Squib- that for some reason made the caretaker go crazy whenever he overheard it. Outwardly she ignored the comments and for the most part they did not bother her, yet she couldn't help memories of being treated as a parasite in Azarath, and occasionally feeling as if she were stuck on the fringe of the Teen Titan's from flooding back. It seemed that no matter where she found herself in life- from a pacifist dimension, to a member of a teenage crime fighting unit, to a student at a magical, British boarding school- she would always be an outsider.

By the second week, Raven was exhausted from trying to get her wand to co-operate and stretching her time so thinly. The Library seemed to hold no answers for her – apparently spell-work was as natural as breathing to everyone else. Isolation suddenly seemed less desirable and the memory of her true family further and further off. Though she hadn't contacted Robin like she had promised, Her T-com hadn't lit up with missed calls either, leaving her feeling a little abandoned. Her dreams had suddenly become Titan's-centric and when she had a quiet moment she always found herself probing at the bond she shared with Robin, dulled as it was from so far away. Occasionally she felt the tug in her mind that meant he was feeling something particularly strongly, and wished she could be there to see what it was. Her friendship with Harry Potter and his friends hadn't progressed past pretending to ignore each other when in reality they were watching each other very closely. While they had every class together, they never spoke. Raven often ran into Hermione at the Library but there was never any more contact than an exchange of glares. She was beginning to feel rather homesick.

It was like that Audrey Hepburn quote, Raven mused one day in the Library. _I don't want to **be** alone. I want to be __left__ alone. _

Then she had caught a glimpse of Hermione at a table, surrounded by a stack of thick, dusty books. Coming closer, she read several of the titles;_ Ritual Summonings:A History, Dark Creatures and where to find them, Myths of True Evil, Creatures of the shadows, The Devil: Real or Ridiculous?, The Half-Breed Lexicon -_and sensed a theme. That startled a laugh from her, causing both Hermione and Madam Pince to flick around in annoyance. Seeing Hermione's cheeks turn red in anger and embarrassment at being caught almost made her crack a smile.

It was the funniest thing Raven had encountered since entering the magical world. Here Hermione was, scouring all the books in the Library in order to find secrets about Raven's species, and the only book that could have helped her was sitting upstairs in their dormitory, the pages on demonic spawn with human fathers marked with post-its from the personalised stationary sets Starfire had bought every Titan for one of her Tameranian holidays.

Raven sighed and gave up her research on wand magic, placing the books on Madam Pince's counter to be returned to their correct shelf (She had the feeling the Librarian was part demon herself from the look she had recieved when she had tried to put her own books away in the wrong places) and headed back up to her room to catch up on some sleep.

On the way she made her mind up to finally write Robin the letter she'd promised him. Though the faces of her three possible fathers were burning holes in her head, she refused to tell her leader about them. Or her school. It would be too hard to explain, he'd get too curious and Azar knew he never needed a new thing to obsess over, not while Slade was still around. She supposed she would just write a quick thank you note for giving her this "holiday". Anything more and he would only worry. More than she knew he already was.

She cringed at the thought of his response to explanation-less mail. On second thought, perhaps she'd write to him tomorrow.

* * *

_Later that night..._

Remus Lupin, despite being in his mid thirties, always felt like a kid in trouble when he entered the headmasters office. It did not seem all that long ago to him that every time he'd been called in to see Dumbledore he'd trembled with fear- certain he was about to be expelled, along with his three best friends, for endangering the lives of students with their reckless night-time jaunts. Still, by now he had learnt there were worse things than disappointing people. At least, he thought he had.

"Remus!" Professor Dumbledore (He would always be professor in his mind) greeted him warmly from behind his massive oak desk. Fawkes, for the moment a hairless pink chick, observed him with world-weary eyes. Severus Snape was sitting in one of two chairs in front of the desk. He didn't look up.

"Hello Albus." Remus replied tiredly. The journey here had been long, and in order to make it he'd had to switch shifts with Kingsley, thus giving up precious time with that curious metamorhagus, Tonks. But Remus had felt he needed to come. Officially, he here to pick up the Wolfsbane potion. Though while it was a necessity, he usually had it floo'd to him and that excuse alone would have looked strange. So he'd told Dumbledore he was going to Hogsmeade anyway, and why didn't he just drop by to pick it up instead?

Really, he had just wanted the chance to speak to Dumbledore about this whole blackmailing the confused child business. Sirius had urged him to do it. It was very easy to agree with their former headmaster when he was in the room, but as soon as Raven had gone to sleep that night in Grimmauld Place, and Albus had disembarked, the two school friends had holed themselves up in Buckbeak's room with some firewhiskey to talk it over. They had agreed wholeheartedly on several points.

Firstly, that neither of them wanted to be that child's father. Though both would rather she was theirs than James's, they came to the conclusion that they would be horrible fathers, one of them a Werewolf and the other, a convicted recluse. Neither of them had any idea how to reconcile with the idea of being the "human" father to the daughter of an all-powerful demon either. Remus was lucky, for once, to be a Werewolf. Lycanthropy seemed like something Raven would have mentioned, if she had it, and though no one knew for sure if you could pass on the gene he thought of the curse as something that infected anything it touched. Still, his days and nights would be wracked with worry until the truth came out.

Somewhat drunkenly that night, and secretly ever since, they'd wished Raven on Peter Pettigrew. It would serve him right. Wishing Peter Pettigrew on Raven, however, was a matter they didn't discuss.

Secondly, they agreed she had to belong to one of the Marauders. They didn't know what evidence she had to the fact that had led her to them, but they hadn't needed a penseive to know the girl was familiar, and could easily had been Angela's daughter. Those Elizabeth Taylor eyes were enough. The fact that Remus and Sirius remembered meeting Angela in London on the eve of Jame's proposal of marriage to Lily meant this girl was barking up the right tree in terms of potential fathers.

Lastly, that not only was it wrong of them to blackmail Raven before giving her the information she desired, but they couldn't bloody well deal with it either. All three of them needed to know, not to mention Harry, who Remus knew would be thinking about the Raven's paternity almost as much as he was. Now that they knew of the possibilities, Remus had to consider them in every decision he made. Dumbledore withholding permission to perform the Paternos spell was cruel and unusual punishment.

_"Not sure what we're being punished for." _Sirius had slurred to Remus last night, absent-mindedly stroking Buckbeak's massive feathery head._ "but maybe Albus thinks we aren't jumping high enough when he tells us too. Any one of us could perform that charm - it's Seventh year magic. Yet here we are, hiding in my mothers house, too scared to fix our problems because Dumbledore said no."_

Remus had to admit Sirius had a point. All he would need is Raven and his wand to figure out if he was her father. Yet he couldn't bring himself to go behind Dumbledore's back. When he'd been offered his place at Hogwarts, he hadn't realised he'd been signing his loyalty away. No. He needed Dumbledore's _permission_ to stop this torture.

"Sit, sit. Severus and I were just having a discussion about Miss Roth. That is, Raven."

Ah, the perfect opening. Yet, Remus couldn't bring himself to say anything. His mouth was dry and he hadn't expected Snape to be here. So he sat dumbly next to Severus, who was wearing a sour expression.

"Roth?" He asked instead. He had to admit he was glad she hadn't taken the name _Lupin-Black-Potter-Pettigrew _to introduce herself among the students_._

"Yes." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "She didn't explain herself, so I assumed it's her mothers name. Quite blunt, that girl."

Remus had a sudden memory of her, violet eyes flashing and steely as she drew a Chef's knife to young Ginny Weasley's throat.

"Quite." Severus snorted.

"Er, I wanted to talk to you about that." Remus managed to say, before Dumbledore held up his hand in a gesture that would have guaranteed silence from a tornado.

"I thought you may have second thoughts." The Headmaster said gravely. "Though I'm afraid I have not. Trust me Remus, as you have before."

Well, what could he say to that? It was as if those X-ray eyes had read his mind once more, and all his well-planned impassioned arguments flew out the window. Sirius would ask where his Gryffindor bravery went when he returned to Grimmauld Place, but Remus supposed he could bring up the last time Sirius had tried to change Dumbledore's mind and gone home with his tail between his legs. You did not argue with this bearded Wiseman. So instead he settled for small talk.

"How is she doing?" Remus asked, his tongue feeling over-large, like a block of wood. Did he really want to know? He wasn't sure. Sirius however, had been. He was adament he didn't want to know a personal thing about her until they knew the truth. If she was his daughter, he'd said, _then _he would want to know what her favourite subject was and who she had a crush on. Remus wished he felt so clear-cut about things. It seemed so _wrong _to make an effort only once you had no other choice. He knew what it was like to be unwanted, and yet knew at least part of his reluctance to have Raven as a daughter was the fact she was a demon. That made him feel so... _hypocritical. _

"Ah, well. She is having some trouble adjusting..." Dumbledore replied.

"She cannot cast a spell of any kind. Her fourth potion lesson, Longbottom started a fire and she put it out with her cloak. She then informed me I should get a _Fire Extinguisher _for safety. She didn't reach for her wand once." Snape inturupted derisively.

Now, Remus Lupin had no idea what a Fire Extinguisher was, but that didn't impede his understanding that Raven wasn't doing too well.

"She is having a little wand trouble." Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "However, the second week of her entire magical education is just coming to a close. I'm sure the problem will resolve itself in time."

Remus began to feel hot around the collar as he realised the whole conversation was starting to resemble a sort of parent-teacher conference. Not the kind of discussion he had skipped time with Nymphadora Tonks for. He had failed to fight for what he wanted, and for that he felt terrible even though he knew deep down an argument with Dumbledore would be futile. With the Headmaster there was always the uncertain feeling that he knew something you didn't, and trying to fight him when his mind was made up would only, in the long run, erode his confidence in your loyalty and make you look foolish.

Thankfully he was saved from coming up with a response to his possible daughter's troubles by a loud knock on the door.

* * *

**_Knock knock. _Who's there? _Review_. Review who_? Review or I wont post the next chapter and you will never know. _**

**Ha ha. I'm kidding. A little. What do you guys think of Raven's little wand issue? Gosh, that sounds like a wizarding euphimism for erectile disfunction. It's not. Any theories on why it's happening or who's at the door?**


	9. The Sharing of Nightmares

**Once again I cannot stress how uplifting and inspirational your reviews are. I really want to respond to each and every one of them but I have the feeling that would start to annoy some people. I know I'm sounding like a broken record, but I don't want anyone to think I don't appreciate them! On with the chapter...**

* * *

_Half an hour before, Fifth year Girls' dormitory, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts..._

It was the middle of a particularly chilly night and every girl but Raven was curled up in her bed, wearing extra socks for warmth and sleeping soundly. _She _was in the midst of a disturbing nightmare, and had long since tossed her blankets to the floor.

_"Lucius, you seem anxious. Do tell me what's on your mind."_

_The voice came from a man turned away towards the hearth of a handsome fireplace. A fire was crackling, but nothing would ever warm the oppressive aura of the room, of the man himself. His entire front was hidden and there was the feeling that was for the best - to look upon his face would destroy the last vestiges of bravery in anyone. There were other people milling about, but as soon as the newcomer entered the room they lapsed into silence. _

_"My Lord." The new arrival, a man dressed in more ornate robes than any other inhabitant of the room, feel to his knees in a bow. To his left a figure lay convulsing on the hardwood floor but he paid it no attention. In fact, no one but a woman lazily flicking her wand about like a baton in time with each algospasm seemed to notice him at all. It was as if he were nothing more than a twitching bug. _

_"My son, Draco, has sent his first letter." Lucious said in hushed, reverent tones. He lifted his head as the monster by the fire spun around in a whirl of smoke-like robes. There needed to be no introductions. The blond man fought off a nervous tick and kept his eyes politely averted as Lord Voldemort appraised him. _

_"Homesick? Already? One would think a boy of his age could handle two weeks away from home."_

_Lucuis mumbled something and in one sweeping motion Lord Voldemort snatched the letter from his hand. His slit eyes slid across the shaky handwriting and the air in the room seemed to drop several degrees. The woman stopped moving her wand and looked to her master in terrified apprehension, ready to either celebrate or run for the door. The figure on the ground had the sense to moan quietly. _

_"Lucious?" She asked, bulging eyes darting around the exits. He cleared his throat. _

_"A new girl." He repeated, so everyone could hear. They made eye contact and each of them appeared to tense their muscles as if to make a break for the door. _

In her sleep, Raven rolled over, twisting her sheets around one leg. A moan escaped her lips.

_The letter fell to the ground and Voldemort's hand plunged deep into the pocket of his robes. Before he had even extracted his wand Lucious was up and the woman was passing him on the way out. The others, not so fast on the uptake, flinched as Lord Voldemort let out a roar of blood-curdling rage. His face was thunder and lighting, a reptilian mask of pure fury. There was a cannonade of sound as the footfalls of his fleeing servants mingled with the shatter of every piece of glass in the building. Voldemort didn't bother trying to stop them. Instead of murder, he channelled his rage at an object propped up on an inconspicuous podium. A mirror. The only one still intact for kilometres. This infuriated the Dark Lord further, and as he threw a volley of ugly incantations at it his anger increased until he was a shrieking demon, throwing the darkest of curses at the mirror as if it had done to him great wrong. What appeared to be merely a looking glass refused to yield until Voldemort was worked into such a fury he ceased using words to express it. His slit eyes widened as large as possible, he howled as a wave of darkness erupted from his every pore and finally the glass began to fall inwards, as if sucked into a black hole..._

With a gasp Raven flung herself upright, expecting to hear another barrage of dark magic. Instead she found her new dormitory quiet but for the soft breathing of her room-mates. Limbs shaking, she managed to untangle herself from the sheets and draw back her curtains. It felt as if the dream had taken root inside her, bringing down her temperature despite the comforting warmth of Gryffindor Tower, so she grabbed a cardigan from the top of her things and wrapped it around her. She doubted it would stop her shivering.

So that was Lord Voldemort. His appearance in her dreams was troubling, not least because she had never seen him before and could not have conjured an image of a man like that no matter how twisted anyone said she was. She didn't think she'd ever heard anyone describe Voldemort as snake-like and especially not 'Without a nose" before, so there was really no explanation for dreaming it except that perhaps it wasn't a dream at all. She'd had short premonitions before, but none like that one, so solid and detailed it had been like she'd been in the room with them herself. Still Raven figured there was a first time for everything. After all, last month the very notion of attending a school for Witchcraft and Wizadry would have been ludicrous.

If it had been real, why was the Dark Lord so angry? Who was Lucius and what news had his son brought? There had been something familiar in his features she couldn't quite put her finger on. Most troubling of all was Brother Blood's presence in that room with Lord Voldemort. She recognised him, would recognise him anywhere. Of course she knew what the man she was meant to marry (According to that damned second prophecy) looked like. Even if he was having a seizure of some sort on the floor.

Surely, if the head of a glorified cult was being tortured by the biggest threat to earth's safety since Trigon, and things were not going well for said threat she would feel happy. Yet all she felt was the strongest sense of foreboding she'd had since the eve of her sixteenth birthday. The ending of her dream, where Voldemort seemed to have triumphed over the mirror's resolve made her feel especially uneasy.

Conceding there would be no sleep to be had now, she retreated down to the common room to finish the latest potions essay for Snape. She'd been spending so much time trying to concure wand magic lately that she'd been neglecting the written work that came so easy. At least it was warmer down there, with the fire and all. Her eyes crowded with sleep, she smacked into something mid-yawn and toppled over before she could throw her hands out, landing hard on the stone floor and bashing her elbow.

"Ow." Someone mumbled, and she turned over to see Harry Potter where a second ago there had been nothing but air. At least - half of Harry Potter. He was in much the same position as she, on the ground rubbing a sore elbow, though he disappeared into nothing at the waist. Raven stared, choosing to say nothing until it became apparent she was seeing things, having another dream, or going insane. Harry flushed and stood, his legs revealing themselves from behind a shimmering piece of cloth that had been invisible moments previously.

"Invisibility Cloak." He explained quickly, seeing her face.

"Ah. Should have known." She replied numbly. Things were much simpler in her world. The boundaries of what could and couldn't happen were more or less fixed in technology. She liked it much better that way. She had google to help her understand motion sensors and bombs, while if there was a search engine to understand magic, someone must have forgotten to show it to her. Come to think of it, that seemed likely considering eleven year olds could do magic she struggled over for hours.

"Er. Yes. Well. I'll be going now." Harry said, bringing the cloak over his head again. Before he could completely disappear she grabbed the edge of the fabric and held on.

"Mind telling me where you're going?" She asked, feeling like someone's overprotective mother, or worse, Robin. It was really none of her business why he was sneaking around Gryffindor tower in the wee hours of the morning, was it? Though it was her right to find the whole thing creepy.

"Dumbledore." He said, frowning at the hand that held the cloak. "I had, uh... don't worry."

Raven had always been in possession of strong instinct. In battle she made up for her lack of physical strength or leadership with her logic, magic, and the uncanny ability to guess where a bullet would land and avoid that spot at all costs. Now she had the feeling, however crazy it was, that she and Harry Potter had just experienced the same premonition.

"A strange dream?" She asked. Harry stopped trying to tug his cloak from her grip and let it slide off of him.

"Yeah. Voldemort er... getting a letter?"

Now that she looked at him she noted his tired face was also glistening with sweat. She imagined she looked just as feverish.

"The same. I'll come with you." she said. It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement, and besides, Harry could think of no reason to refuse. Despite his anger at Dumbledore for ignoring him, tonight's dream was too important to ignore. He knew he had to go and see the Headmaster the second he woke from it, not least because Hermione would be unbearable if he didn't. Of course, being the only person with the connection to Lord Voldemort, the fact that Raven had the same dream freaked him out. Harry wasn't about to refuse her company based on the fact he found her eerie when she might be able to shed light on the situation.

Raven hadn't realised she would have to get under the cloak with him, but had no idea where the Headmaster's office was so teleporting wasn't an option. With a sigh she let him cover her and managed to stay hidden while touching as little of Harry as possible. Harry thought it helped that she was Hermione's height, rather than Ron's.

They tread through the castle as quietly as possible to avoid detection, though that didn't stop the silence from having an awkward quality. It was surreal for them to walk together through a Hogwarts usually alive with the sound of students and now as quiet as death itself, having been ignoring each other since the start of term. Harry had a suspicion, which was indeed correct, that Raven knew about Hermione's research into Demons, but tried not to think about that in case she really could read minds. They reached the Gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office and Harry realised with a start that he didn't know the new password, since the Headmaster was avoiding him so well.

"Erm... Acid Pops? Lemon Drops? Cockroach Cluster?" Harry tried, throwing the cloak off both of them. Being caught here would be welcome, considering they could be waiting till morning if they continued his method of guessing the password. Raven raised her eyebrow as he tried increasingly muggle sweets in the hope Dumbledore might have liked them.

"Snifters? Salt-Water Taffy? Milk duds?"

"May I ask why you're listing candy for the statue?" She dead-panned. Harry nervously told her about the themed passwords Dumbledore usually set to prevent people from entering his office uninvited. Raven seemed to be in deep thought for a moment, then she shrugged.

"It worked at Grimmauld Place, so I doubt it will fail here." she said, and clamped her hand over his wrist. Out of sheer reflex, he pulled away before she mumbled something foreign and his body went cold. The next thing Harry knew, he was standing in front of the familiar door to Dumbledore's office.

"Is that how you got into Sirius's? It didn't feel like apparition."

"Most call it Teleporting but I don't think it matters, they're both the same thing." she replied, before rapping hard on the door. There was a pause, and then Dumbledore's slightly uncertain "Enter."

Harry let her take the lead, his limbs still feeling tingly from the teleportation. While apparition was often described as being squeezed through a small rubber tube, Harry could only liken Raven's version of it as being plunged into fathomless, ice cold water. It was magic he'd never heard of before, and despite feeling out-of-sorts for experiencing it, he couldn't help but feel relieved as he entered the Headmaster's office. Watching her in class, you'd never know Raven was capable of extraordinary magic. He'd been worried ever since Hermione had suggested the Order could be wrong to put their faith in her. Now that he'd felt her teleportation, he wondered what else she was capable of and was glad she was on his side, even if she didn't act like it.

Raven stopped short at the sight of Remus Lupin sitting in front of the Headmaster's desk, barely noticing Professor Snape. They stared at each other in alarm for a moment, neither having expected to see the other until it finally came time to cast the Paternos Charm. Raven collected herself the fastest and looked away.

"Hello Professor." Harry said in surprise. Remus gave him a tight smile.

"Miss Roth, Mr Potter. I'm sure you have an excellent reason for being out of bed and in my office at this time of the morning." Dumbledore said, sweeping behind his desk.

Harry felt rather embarrassed now that he was here, but Raven felt no such qualms. School rules and normal etiquette were not engrained in her the way they were in the Boy Who Lived.

"It appears Harry and I had the same premonition. About Lord Voldemort." She said bluntly.

"I see... Sit, please." He replied at length, finally conjuring two extra chairs. Both Snape and Lupin appeared very uncomfortable at the sudden turn of events despite the ominous feeling that swept through the room at Raven's words. Thinking it would look strange to cut across Harry's path to take the outside seat, Raven reluctantly took the one next to Lupin, feeling an odd leaping sensation dance across her skin as she did so. In the current situation it seemed prudent to outwardly ignore that fact that the man might share DNA with her, but that didn't stop her mind screaming it so loud she thought she might blurt it out when asked a question.

"Harry, describe it for me." Dumbledore said thoughtfully, sweeping into his own seat.

"Er, well... Voldemort and some of his Death Eaters were standing in this huge room, like a study or something. Bellatrix was there, and she was torturing this man. Lucious Malfoy came in and told Voldemort Draco had written him a letter. And the letter said there was a new girl at school and she had violet hair and couldn't do magic. Then Voldemort went crazy and started shooting spells at this mirror." Harry mumbled. It did sound impossible when said aloud. Dumbledore regarded him with tired eyes for a very long time before he tilted his head towards Raven.

"And you saw the same thing?"

"Yes, but I didn't see what the letter said and of course I only knew Voldemort's name." She hesitated for a second, but pressed on, knowing the connection between herself and Brother Blood was too huge to be a coincidence. "And the name of the man being tortured by the woman."

There was a pause as everyone in the room noted her hesitation to add the last detail. Remus got a strange feeling from her words, as if they were dredging up bad memories for her. He didn't want to hear, considering his resolution to not discover anything personal about the girl, yet at the same time he was fascinated and wanted her to explain. This whole thing, being in the same room with her, felt dangerous, even if they were able to ignore the elephant in the room with the distraction of Voldemort.

"And that man is?"

"Sebastian. Brother Blood. He's the leader of a prominent muggle cult. But by muggle I mean, not your form of magic. I'm sure some of them have telekinetic abilities and a great deal of knowledge about rituals."

Dumbledore turned to Harry, as if he hadn't heard her. His expression was very serious, and as he spoke he avoided Harry's eyes.

"You knew the contents of the letter." He stated, though Harry knew the question behind it.

"Uh, yeah. I was seeing it from Voldemort's point of view." he said, and felt like the admission was shameful. Like he'd done something wrong, but didn't know what. It didn't help that Dumbledore was refusing to look at him.

"And you Raven? Where did you see it from?" he asked after a pause.

"I was watching the scene, not a part of it." She answered carefully, knowing there was some significance to his question but unable to discern it.

"I see." he said, and steepled his fingers, deep in thought. His lines were more pronounced than ever.

"I'm sorry, but are we just going to ignore what Miss Roth said about the muggle cult?" Snape asked sharply. "He's always operated alone."

"I was under the impression it was a conversation to have in private." Dumbledore said sternly. Raven would have felt touched if the Wizard wasn't blackmailing her. She might have even mentioned it, if Remus Lupin hadn't been sitting uncomfortably on her right. She knew that even if she did tell Dumbledore her theories on Brother Blood, it would become common knowledge at the next Order of the Phoenix meeting. The offer of privacy was just an illusion, meant to make her complacent. Besides, there was something compelling about speaking in front of Remus Lupin. A potential father to... _impress? _scare? Make an impression upon?

"No, it'll be fine. The Church of Blood are Satanists I suppose. That's the best description I can give you. Their ultimate goal is to summon Scathe." she said, a part of her enjoying refusing to play ball with Dumbledore. He looked up politely.

"Scathe is?"

"Another name for the my father." she replied, fighting the urge to add 'one of them anyway'.

"Considering Voldemort is attempting to contact him, that is an important connection indeed. You say he was being tortured?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded.

"It looked like the Cruciatus curse." he said. Raven had no idea what it was, but assumed it was extremely painful anyway.

"If Voldemort asked Brother Blood for help contacting Trigon, would he have any reason to not comply?" the Headmaster directed his question at Raven. She had to think, drawing on her knowledge of Voldemort from the books upstairs in her dormitory. She'd been studying them in what little free time she had, trying to decide if she believed that The Dark Lord really was trying to contact Trigon. Now she believed it, and even felt afraid that it could be possible.

"I believe Sebastian would do anything to see Trigon released from the prison I banished him to and bring him to earth. I don't know about contacting him, but the only way to freedom is through me. I put him there, only I can undo it."

Despite himself, Harry was impressed. Overpowering a demon couldn't be easy. Despite the aversion he had to her, something about her past actions sparked a feeling of kinship. He couldn't speak for having an evil parent, but he knew what it was like to be the complete opposite of your relatives and be forced into a position of great responsibility at a young age. He got the feeling that perhaps he'd misjudged her. She had apologised about merely turning up in his life, after all.

"_You_ imprisoned him personally?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

"I had no choice. He tried to use me as a portal to enter earth on my sixteenth birthday. It was what he spawned me for in the first place." She frowned and added, a little defensively. "I had help. I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own."

Now that was another argument Harry could relate to.

"In any case it seems as if Voldemort has made a servant of this man. However, it seems odd to me that he should direct his fury at a mirror when he already had a Cult leader who obviously displeased him and a room full of Death Eaters available. I think it is clear that Draco's letter about Miss Roth sparked his fury."

The lines of logic were blurring and Raven couldn't see correlation in these separate facts. Why was Voldemort angry at Sebastian, who no doubt shared his goal of freeing Trigon? Why was Draco reporting to his father about her? Why had Voldemort attacked that mirror with so much force? Eerily, why had it resisted?

"Then he must know Raven is the key to releasing Trigon." Remus said. Something in her fluttered when he said her name, but it was undone by the mention of Trigon. Only a one in four chance, she reminded herself. Knowing her luck, she would share the same father with Harry Potter and undo every happy memory he had of his parents as a loving couple in the process.

"I can understand why her presence at Hogwarts would upset Voldemort." Dumbledore acknowledged with a nod. "This is one of few places he cannot get to you. Forgive me if I seem proud, but I am the only wizard he has ever feared."

"Even if he did get to me, I'd die before releasing Trigon." Raven said stiffly. She saw Remus looking at her from the corner of her eye. He was wondering how on earth a girl of her age, who seemed so small, was so cynical. The only other person of her age he knew would be willing to die for the greater good was Harry, and he never would have been so upfront about it. Remus got the sense that she was less of a young girl than she was a one-woman army.

"It's possible that's what he wants. Most spells loose their power once the caster dies."

Raven looked at him sharply, wanting to dispute his claim. But she knew he spoke the truth from the matter-of-fact way he said it. Despite the more questionable aspects of his personality, she knew Dumbledore was no idiot. The fact that Voldemort was worked into such a fury upon learning she was under his care was testament to that. He seemed so old - he probably knew more magic than she would ever learn, especially at the rate she was going. The young demoness hadn't thought about the rules of magic when she'd imprisoned her father. She'd simply wanted to get rid of him and, happily, had found the power to do so. Afterwards she hadn't even bothered to check if such a spell would still hold even if she perished. Now it seemed like a huge oversight.

"Trigon wouldn't be happy. Demons don't work in the way we do, in some way I think he's _proud _I ruined his plans. This whole idea about Trigon and Voldemort doesn't work because of that. There is no way a demon would agree to share power with a human, no matter how evil. Especially one that killed his daughter. I just don't see why Voldemort would take such a risk."

"He's desperate. He doesn't have the power he had last time. About the only thing he has is the element of surprise because the Ministry of Magic and the public at large believe he's been dead for fourteen years. Perhaps he's torturing Brother Blood for suggesting the same thing." Remus said darkly.

"It's possible Sebastian told him Trigon would be willing to share power. And if Voldemort ever does find a way to speak with Trigon himself, he'll certainly hear the same lie." Raven said, her blood chilling. It seemed likely, though it didn't explain why Sebastian was being tortured.

"Voldemort cannot be lied to." Snape said swiftly from his corner. As if the very idea was preposterous.

"Anyone can be lied to. Sebastian's been trained to keep his mind safe almost as much as I have and I doubt Trigon is even capable of telling the truth. If those two don't want their thoughts read they won't be, no matter how skilled Voldemort is." Raven retorted.

"He does not think he can be lied to. If he mistakenly believes Trigon would share power over Earth because of that belief, he will do anything to contact him and capture Raven. Stay safe and in the castle as much as possible. I regret to say this, especially in front of Professor Snape, but don't go out of your way to make friends with any Slytherin students either." Dumbledore said gravely.

"I'm stung." Snape said sarcasticly.

"I apologise, Severus. Now, off to bed with you two. If you have any more dreams concerning Voldemort I want to know of it immediately. Miss Roth, we will meet Friday night at seven if that time is suitable for you."

She nodded and left with Harry, willing herself to not look in Remus's direction. When she was gone, the man let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Only without the influence of her presence was he able to admit to himself he'd been disturbed by the meeting. Not simply because Voldemort knew of the Order's secret weapon thanks to Draco Malfoy either.

The way Raven moved, spoke and expressed herself was not normal. As a teacher Remus was used to all manor of children, be they easily distracted, shy, arrogant or the class clown. So her behaviour struck him was very unnatural. It seemed like her image was carefully crafted to give nothing away. Like she had no personality past her belief that Trigon must not be freed and Voldemort must be taken down. He didn't know if she'd been born that way, or something terrible had happened to make her so, but so far he could see _none _of the Marauders in her. None of Peter's eager-to-please, timid nature. None of James's easy charm or humour. None of Sirius's traditional good looks or rebellious (Except perhaps in her refusal to bend to Dumbledore's every whim). Nothing belonging to him either. In fact, she didn't seem to have any discernible traits at all past haughtiness.

"As enlightening as this evening's been, I hope to teach the first years how brew acne solution without melting their skin off and need my sleep." Snape said, sweeping out of his chair. He produced a smoking flask for Lupin, who sincerely thanked him. Severus said nothing, and stalked out of the room leaving the Headmaster and the former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor alone.

"I wonder what you think of her Remus." Dumbledore said, examining the man with his bright blue, X-ray eyes. Remus didn't have to ask who he was referring to.

"She's very..." but Remus could not say what she was. He could barely absorb that she'd showed up.

"I only ask to point out one thing. As you can see, she's old for her age. A delayed Paternos charm is not the least of her problems, but it is not the worst of them either. She has dealt with much in the past, and she will deal with this just the same."

He nodded, wondering how he would explain all this to Sirius without sounding like a coward. Afraid of Dumbledore, and possibly afraid of Raven too. At least his fears that they were damaging an impressionable child were quelled. She was no more of a child than he was. It was almost fascinating to have watched her participate in the discussion as an equal with Harry for comparison, who'd sat subdued and quiet in his chair.

"You know Remus, it's not a crime to want to hear the girl speak."

But it was. For if he wanted to see any more of Raven, it was only to satiate morbid curiosity. He wanted to observe her for signs of her human father, if there were any. He wanted to see if that exterior ever cracked or if she was as smart as she seemed. Sirius had been right to think it was a bad idea to have any interaction with Raven before they knew her father's identity. Because Remus found himself already forming a confused opinion of the girl, weighing up her pros and cons and wondering how the hell he would deal with the challenges of raising an emotionally-crippled and immensely powerful witch if by some horrible luck she turned out to be his.

"It is if I start hoping she is, or_ isn't_, my daughter. To hope she is would be to wish a Werewolf on an innocent child, to hope she isn't would be shirking responsibility. I cannot win Albus. I cannot afford to form an opinion."

He stood up, smoking flask in hand, resolving never to come near the castle for some time in case he should run into her again.

"I don't want to see her until we cast that Paternos charm." Remus said steadily. He wanted to communicate with Dumbledore how serious he was. That he wouldn't stand for any trickery, not that he understood the Headmasters motives one way or the other.

"Very well. Just remember that ignoring Raven Roth will not make her any less real." Dumbledore replied. "And tell Sirius as well, least he forget he may end up responsible for her."

"I don't think he stays in Grimmauld Place to hide Albus." Remus said tiredly. Then he had an uncomfortable thought. "Does she know? I mean, have you told her, about Peter Pettigrew?"

"I thought it would be best to keep that quiet when she has so much on her plate, trying to adjust to our magic and school life at the same time. As far as I am aware, she does not know any more about the her fourth potential father than his nickname. And she doesn't seem the type to discuss such a thing with anyone who might know who Wormtail is."

He nodded, glad for that at least.

"Goodnight Albus." Remus said, feeling as if his skull had been filled with concrete. He wondered what Raven would think if she truly knew her options. James, the dead adulterer. Sirius, the convict shell of a the man he once was. Peter, the gutless, disloyal servant of the Dark Lord. Then Remus. The homeless, poor Werewolf who despite his attempts to remain open-minded already felt like a hypocrite for not wanting her.

* * *

**So I thought I should give the plot a kick-start. Don't worry though, the next chapter is going to be filled with school-yard bullying and such. Thank you for reading, please leave a review on your way out :)**


	10. Modest Progress

**Hello my darlings. Btw, at this time in my story Harry is suffering in detentions with Umbridge, Ron has tried out for and made the Quiddich team and Hermione has already suggested the concept of Dumbledore's army, just like in the book. I didn't think I should go into details in the chapter because Lets be honest, you've all read it before. This is my version of the fifth book, only with Raven in it. Because of her presence, Voldemort is less about looking for the prophecy and more about freeing his new partner in crime. Any events Raven would not impact take place the same as in the Order of the Phoenix, which of course belongs to J.K. Rowling. **

* * *

Sebastian couldn't believe it. All his life, he'd been training, studying, _preying _to meet Trigon. Tonight, in this gaudy manor over-run with dark, self-important and sadistic witches and Wizards, it had happened. He'd finally seen his master. His reason for living.

He leant against the house, looking out over the garden Voldemort had warned him was filled with snap-dragons and nocturnal cacti and fairies. Wizarding monstrosities. Voldemort could have dominion over the whole thing, in Sebastian's opinion, if not for one thing: He had demanded it. No one demanded a thing from Scathe. He was a righteous Lord, who would give you what you deserved. Not what you demanded. He knew his master thought the same way and, when the time came, would leave leave Voldemort with nothing for his stupidity.

It had been remarkably easy to convince the "Dark Lord" that demons were unable to renege on their word, and thus Trigon was a trustworthy ally. Sebastian had blamed Voldemort's failure at using legilimancy to enter his mind on his telekinesis and after refusing to admit otherwise under Bellatix's torture that was that. Once Voldemort had finally summoned the hatred and rage needed to force open the chink in Raven's spellwork and contact Trigon, he was convinced they could form a partnership and had offered Trigon a deal - freedom as long as he was granted dominion over the Wizarding world. The Demon, being an entity _made _from darkness and dripping with cunning, had either sensed Brother Blood had already convinced Voldemort demons were trustworthy or believed him too stupid to consider the risk, and agreed.

Sebastian dug deep into his pockets, fishing for a celebratory cigarette. His hands were shaking. It was hard to believe there'd been such leaps and bounds over the course of a night. It had seemed to Sebastian for a while there that Voldemort would never overpower the mirror and reach out to his master. He'd thought he would be considered useless and be disposed of, leaving the Church to flounder in his absence and eventually dissolve. Centuries worth of Satanist's work reduced to rubble, along with Trigon's chances of conquering the cosmos.

By some holy miracle, that hadn't happened. Voldemort's anger of Raven being in Dumbledore's care fuelled his magic to new heights. It was amusing for Brother Blood to think that someone powerful enough to tear a hole in the dimensional barrier between earth and wherever Raven had imprisoned her father would be undone by one of _his_ lies. He blew smoke from his mouth and closed his eyes. When this was all over, he would be rewarding. While slavery and death were the only options for Voldemort once Raven was spirited away and convinced to summon her father one way or another, Sebastian would be given to her and would rule over everything alongside the demons. It hadn't even been hard.

He wondered what kind of idiots the rest of the Wizarding World was composed of, if the man that had dominated them and called himself Lord of Darkness was such a fool.

* * *

Raven returned to her dormitory but found that, now her nightmare's fever had worn off and cold had slunk into her bed, she was unable to sleep. Never having been one to need much of the stuff anyway, she gave over to her brain's need to stay awake and think.

Seeing Remus Lupin tonight had been a useful surprise. It had reminded her of the reason she had come to Hogwarts in the first place. Not to learn wand magic and discover Voldemort's plans (Though those things were obviously now very important) but to find a possible link from herself to another person. Proof that she was made of more than a demon and a flighty woman too weak to be her mother. Now she chastised herself for not thinking quick enough. If she'd had her wits about her, perhaps been less disturbed by her premonition, she would have tried to get one of Moony's hairs to send back to Jump for DNA testing. She doubted she would get the chance again any time soon. In her minds eye she pictured reaching over and plucking a fallen hair from his worn and patched travelling cloak and wondered why they were going grey so early on in life.

Spending every waking hour pouring over text books on Bubble-head charms and the History of Evil in the Wizarding World was all very well and good, but she couldn't neglect her need to discover her father's identity much faster than Albus Dumbledore wanted her too. Spending a litte time with Harry Potter had got her thinking about a few other things as well. Namely, the Headmaster's insistence that she and his trio would make a good team. She couldn't say much about Weasley, but she could certainly see the advantages of Granger's intellect and Harry's experience with Voldemort. There was something else about the Boy who lived she'd picked up from reading the books that detailed her parents violent deaths and his life following. A... connection she felt to him despite their initial dislike for each other. Something about destinies that had been picked for them.

Perhaps it was time she ditched Parviti and Lavender.

A new friendship with Harry could offer her the opportunity to strike one possible father from her list. She knew that if she hung around him long enough, he was bound to loose one of those untidy black hairs sooner or later, and she would find an opportunity to get it to Robin.

She kept thinking until the first rays of dawn broke through the frosted windows and Parviti and Lavender rose to start their beauty routine. Hermione, smart girl that she was, slept on as the two girls gossiped and applied potions to their hair and painted their nails hot pink. The nattering only made Raven that much more determined to befriend Harry and company.

"Have you heard that Potter's thinking about starting a Defence Against the Dark Art's group?"

"He's not!"

"He is. Heard it from Dean. They're having a meeting about it and everything next Hogsmeade visit."

"Who does he think he is?" Parvati harrumphed. "It's one thing to go around lying about you-know-who and another thing completely to pretend you can teach students how you did it."

"Umbridge is a right cow though, isn't she? Wouldn't be surprised if Potter did make a better teacher, even if he's crazy. She's _shite_."

"I think it's just horrible. Especially when you consider the way he looks at Cho Chang. You'd think if he fancies her he'd stop lying about how her boyfriend died."

"Will you two keep your bloody mouths shut!" Hermione bellowed. Raven heard the sound of curtains ripping open, and could imagine the Prefect's furious face.

"Or what?" Lavander taunted.

"I'll give you both detention!"

"For what, insulting your boyfriend?" Parvati giggled.

"Harry is not my boyfriend and no. For insulting a teacher!"

"But you hate Umbridge!" Parvati said, in a scandalised tone.

"Yes but I'm not stupid enough to go on about it in front of prefects." Came the smug reply. That shut them up. Raven would have rathered her mornings be filled with meditation to adequately prepare her for what would no doubt be a day full of failure and humiliation thanks to her useless wand, but hearing that little snippet of hostility gave Raven a wonderful idea that she put to good use at Dinner.

It was clear that the two best friends and Hermione would be at each others throat no matter what happened, but that the main source of animosity at the moment was down to their dismissal of Harry's claims. They certainly weren't unique in doing so - Raven estimated nine tenths of the school thought Harry Potter a lunatic or a delusional attention seeker. It seemed the best way to erase all the friction between herself and Hermione was to do something to get on her good side.

Sandwiched between Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas at the Gryffindor table that night, with Parvati and Lavender opposite was hell on earth. Still, she knew that sooner or later, the conversation would lower in pitch and turn to _The boy who lied _as soon as they ran out of fresh gossip. Especially since Harry was currently in another detention with Umbridge and Weasley was nowhere to be found. Luck was on her side for once as Hermione took a seat next to Neville and, without her friends to distract her, started to eat in relative silence.

Halfway through her plate of Cottage Pie (She would probably return to Jump a few kilograms heavier) the subject turned to Harry just as she thought it would and instead of ignoring it and grunting in the right parts she fixed Lavender with a hard look and told her to stop being such an _idiot._ Which was a reward in itself, even if Hermione hadn't been listening. Which she _definitely_ was.

"Do you really think Potter and Dumbledore would make up such ridiculous lies together? Do you think they get together over summer to check their stories match? What would be the point in it? If Potter wanted more attention all he'd have to do is get a tattoo or dye his hair and the_ Daily Prophet_ would find some way to make it breaking news."

What she'd got short-term for her outburst was shocked expressions all round, an attempted retort along the lines of "Well, that's not..." and later, a mystified look from Hermione. She must have overheard, and was wondering when Raven switched from quietly knowing Harry's story was fact while letting others ridicule it, to openly defending it.

And even though Raven had much shadier and self-serving reasons for causing controversy, Hermione must have thought it had been out of the good of her heart, because their interactions were suddenly more civil that night in the Dormitory. They even said goodnight to each other.

Raven didn't correct Hermione. She knew from her experiences as a superhero that no one was ever happy with actions of pure light anyway. If you caught the insane magician, they'd still be banging down your door with bills for the street repair the next day. What did it matter that she had more than one motive for confronting Lavender? Misleading Granger was hardly the most heinous act of the century.

The desired effects proved themselves the next day, when Raven awoke to a silent dormitory filled only with a studious Hermione pouring over her History of Magic textbook. No inane chatter but that of the birds outside. Later in Potions Hermione silently lit her cauldron for her, much to Snape's obvious displeasure. In the hall, Harry offered her a small smile and nod of acknowledgement as she passed him. Not that she returned it, but she was pleased all the same. Her defence of Harry Potter had effectively ended her room-mates' desires to dress her up like a paper doll and make her a partner in friendship. Now when they went to breakfast they didn't ask her along, and they didn't tote her to classes like a teacup poodle straining at the leash. The School apparently took her truce with Hermione as firm friendship, and left her alone without thinking she was creepy and friendless.

Well, most of them left her alone. Any class with the Slytherins wasn't exactly pleasant. At the start of term a few had tried to engage her in conversation and ignored them more often than not. There was something about the auras of most in that house that made her skin crawl. They wern't as bad as the malignant evil that sometimes made her shudder in the presence of criminals, but she wasn't making friends with anyone with a pleasant aura either. Now that she'd proven to be a such a _muggle_, they'd decided they were glad of the fact and began a campaign of school-yard bullying against her.

It was pathetic really. Bewitching her text books so they were suddenly written in Spanish. Hexing her book-bag so it split whenever she entered a crowded hall. Calling her a squib any chance they got. If she didn't speak fluent Spanish, count non-magical people among her only friends and have a thick-skin tempered by years of meditation, it might have gotten to her. She might even have broken down in the middle of Charms after yet another unsuccessful spell and resolved to live in the Bathrooms with Moaning Myrtle.

But the Slytherins (allied briefly with Lavender and Parvati) didn't achieve their goal of stripping away the wall that separated Raven from other people. Their constant stalking only made her angry, though she hid that emotion like she did every other. That was made easier by the fact that every time Pansy Parkinson called her a name or Blaise Zambini wondered aloud if a muggle Doctor had given her breast enhancement surgery, Granger was watching, biting her lip. Raven knew that a girl like Hermione, with her copious amounts of bushy hair, intelligence and love for rules, could not have had an easy school life. She soothed her fury with the knowledge that every remark was endearing her to Granger, and thus her friends.

If she was honest with herself, their Squib comments did sting. Not because they were terribly witty or because she truly thought being non-magical meant you were less a person but because not only was she meant to be able to perform magic, she was meant to be wonderful at it. It hurt because with wand-magic she _was_ a squib, and without magic in general she was nothing. So as childish as it was, she wanted to hurl noxious black energy at Malfoy every time he sneered at her. She comforted that urge with the thought that one day, she would be free from Dumbledore's supervision. One day, she would be able to use her _real _magic openly where ever she wished.

On that day, she felt like she might pay the Slytherin common room a visit. Though for now she would have visit in her dreams.

So she added another item to her to-do list, which so far compiled of:

_1. Alienate Parvati and Lavender_

_2. Make Friends with Harry Potter and Company_

_3. Figure out why wand magic is so difficult_

_4. Obtain hairs from either/both Remus Lupin or Harry Potter_

_5. Write to Robin and ask for a DNA comparison between said hairs and my own_

_6. Uncover the Dark Lord's plans_

_7. Stop them _

_8. Seek revenge (Within reason) on School-yard bullies_

_9. Have Paternos Charm performed._

With number one on the list crossed off and number two well on it's way, Raven felt almost happy. If you did not include the wand component, she immensely enjoyed her first education since the harsh system of Azarath and enjoyed the Castle's magical energy. It had a golden aura pulsating with the supernatural and was as much a character in her new life as the students and teachers. She'd been down to see Hagrid once or twice, and to her surprise, had been pleased when the giant had been as accommodating and warm as when she first met him. It was a comfort to see him around the grounds as the frosts began, tending to his creatures. Like a reminder of the friends she did have. Every day she considered writing home, but decided against it until she had at least one hair.

School might have even been enjoyable, if only she could master cheering charms. Even casting _Lumos _would have been nice.

* * *

By Wednesday Harry's hand was throbbing and his cuts would bleed at the mere threat of being knocked. He'd had two straight weeks of detentions with Umbridge thanks to outbursts in the classroom, and was suffering under Angelina's furious gaze every time he had to miss a Quiddich Practise for it. Harry couldn't think of enough curse words to describe his D.A.D.A teacher, or enough adjectives to explain how much he really hated her. Thankfully, Hermione had taken up helping him with his homework while he soaked his hands in Murtlap essence, since his evenings were mostly spent in Umbridge's sickening office carving his hand open.

"You really ought to talk to Mcgonagall mate." Ron said for the dozenth time, frowning at him across their game of Wizard's chess. The common room was slowly emptying of people, but Harry wanted to wait till a few more left to be safe before telling them about the premonition he'd had a few days ago.

"I'm not letting her know she's got to me." Harry replied dully, watching as his Queen was attacked by Ron's Knight. He really should have seen that coming, but had been too distracted. Hermione sighed.

"I think you're being silly Harry." She said, then went back to fixing his essay, on the correct way to grip a wand to ensure maximum safety, for Umbridge.

"Yeah... listen." He said, as Lee Jordan and the twins headed up to bed. He lowered his voice in case anyone was listening in. "I forgot to tell you, I had another dream a few nights ago."

"The one with the corridor again?" Ron asked, leaning in.

"Nah, this one had Voldemort-" Ron flinched. "-in it. Lucuis Malfoy brought him a letter from Draco, about _her._" He inclined his head over to the corner by the window overlooking the lake, where Raven was studying a book with narrowed eyes, wand in hand and quill placed in front of her. Hermione put down her parchment.

"And you're only just telling us this now?" She demanded, hair seeming to crackle with electricity.

Harry mumbled something about Quiddich and planning lessons for the Defence Against the Dark Arts group she'd suggested, knowing it would mollify her. In reality he had wanted to mull over the dream before he got their opinions on what it all meant.

"Anyway, as soon as he read about a new American Exchange student with violet hair he was furious and pulled out his wand."

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Did he kill anyone?" She asked softly. Ron stared at her.

"Who cares if he killed them Hermione? They're Death Eaters!"

Harry shook his head forcefully and the two stopped bickering to listen.

"He started shooting spells, not at anyone, but at this mirror he had. He'd kind of _screamed _in rage and all the windows had shattered but this mirror wouldn't break. Finally the glass kind of fell in on itself, and I woke up."

"That's it?" Ron asked, disappointed. "I thought you were going to say you knew what his plan was or something."

"That's not even the weirdest part mate." Harry said. "Obviously I thought I'd have to go to Dumbledore so I got out the cloak and headed downstairs-"

"Could have woken me up." Ron said, but Hermione shut him up with a look reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley.

"and I smacked into _her." _he inclined his head towards the corner again, where Raven was now tracing wands movements in the air. Something that looked suspiciously like a _swish _and _flick. _"Turns out she had the same exact dream."

"Blimey." Ron muttered, staring at Raven unsubtly. She didn't take any notice, as absorbed in her book as she was.

"So we headed to Dumbledore's office together and I realised I didn't know the password so she just _teleported _us inside."

"How is she able to do that?" Hermione frowned. She looked desperately unhappy that there was magic she couldn't perform. "_Hogwarts: A History_ says there's no way to get into the Headmaster's Office unless something really dreadful has happened or you've got the password."

"Well, I doubt the author considered demons while she was writing it." Ron said, smirking. For once, _Hogwarts: A History_ had failed her. Harry told them all about the discussion in Dumbledore's office in a low voice, periodically checking to see if Raven had realised they were talking about her. If she had, she was very good at hiding it.

"Bloody hell, imagine having to deal with her dad as well as you-know-who." Ron said, paling.

"I've never heard of the Church of Blood before, but that figures if it's a Satanist Cult." Hermione said. She looked troubled.

"Dumbledore didn't say if he understood the connection. But Raven looked pretty determined to figure it out. She said she'd die before she let Trigon free."

"I wonder if... if we've misjudged her." Hermione said cautiously, biting her lip. Ron stared at her incredulously.

"If we've misjudged her? What happened to," He put on a high-pitched imitation of Hermione. "_I'm going to find out what she's hiding if it's the last thing I do_?"

"That was before I knew she imprisoned her father herself. Think what kind of life she must have had. I mean..." Hermione looked cautiously at Harry, as if he were about to explode. "Think of why she came to Grimmauld Place in the first place. If she's only now looking for her human father, her mother can't have been around much either. Or at least, she can't have been very _nice_."

Harry didn't like to think about it, especially not the part about her human father, but when he forced himself to he found himself wondering if she had her very own Dursleys back in the States. He'd tried to get something out of Parvati earlier, but she hadn't been helpful. Maybe he'd been too subtle, or she was still mad about the way he'd treated her at the Yule Ball. More likely, he thought, that Raven hadn't told her anything at all.

"And yesterday at Dinner, when Ron was at Quiddich and you were in Detention, Lavender said something about you and Raven told her to shut up."

"I thought that was just a rumour." Ron said, surprised.

"No. I heard the whole thing. She asked Parvati if she really thought Harry and Professor Dumbledore met up in the holidays to discuss what lies to tell the world."

"Who knew she could use sarcasm for good." Ron muttered, and simultaneously the three of them turned to watch Raven take a deep breath and point her wand at the quill.

He sighed. If Hermione could manage to make them feel bad about Raven, it was a mystery her House Elf campaign was so unsuccessful. In his opinion Dobby was a lot cuddlier, but he was heartened to hear that Raven had supported his story in public. He needed all the friends he could get nowadays.

"She's kind of sad really." Ron said, tilting his head. They watched as she murmured, just as Harry had suspected, _Wingardium Leviosa, _over and over to no avail. Harry thought her problem wasn't as sad as if was confounding. Using his wand was second nature. He knew Raven had awesome power, why couldn't she use it?

"I can't watch." Hermione said as Raven calmly continued to recite the spell. She stood up, leaving quill and essay on the table, and boldly walked over. Harry and Ron shared a look and craned their necks to listen.

"Sorry, I just... well." Hermione suddenly became nervous as Raven stopped what she was doing to stare at her with one eye brow quirked. Harry wondered how she was able to keep her expression so... frosty all the time. "It might be your accent but... It's Levi-oh-sa. Not Levio-Sah."

"I don't think she realises how annoying that is." Ron groaned.

"Oh, I'm sure that's it." Raven said sardonicly. She pointed her wand at the quill and imitated Hermione, accent and all. Still nothing.

"Thank you though." she added quietly, and then promptly re-opened her book and began reading. Hermione stood over her shoulder awkwardly.

"I know that didn't work." She said after a minute, fidgeting with her hands. "But since we're always in the Library at the same time and I'm on top of my homework, maybe I could try and help you figure out the problem?"

Harry and Ron stared at each other in alarm. Neither had thought Hermione would go that far. Raven looked up in equal surprise, apparently having thought the same thing.

"I guess you could try." She said slowly, then went back to her book. Hermione returned to her seat with a small smile playing on her lips.

"She's not that bad." she repeated quietly, and began finishing up Harry's essay. When the two girls had gone to bed an hour later, Harry and Ron sat up desperately trying to tack endings onto the Care of Magical Creatures essay they'd forgotten all about (Which Hermione claimed she'd reminded them about a week ago).

"I suppose we didn't like Hermione too much either, not at the start" Ron reasoned, scribbling as fast as he could. He swore and crossed out his previous sentence. Harry grunted. Ron looked up, a smudge of ink on his cheek. "It's just girls, isn't it? Bloody difficult. How are we meant to know what they're thinking?"

"I don't think anyone will ever figure out what Raven's thinking."He replied. That bothered him, but not because he didn't trust her for it. She was just so... mysterious. Harry would give up quite a few Galleons to know what went on in her head, just for an hour.

"Right. I mean, I haven't seen her smile once? It's like, she's got two emotions." Ron said, putting on a stony face. "Emotion one, haunty. Emotion two, mocking." He tried and failed to raise one eyebrow a couple of times, before giving up. Harry laughed, mostly at Ron's expression, but in reality he was thinking about the subtle flashes of emotion he'd seen flicker across her face a couple of times. A glint of hope in her eyes after saying the incantation for a spell. The loneliness he caught out of the corner of his eye.

Perhaps Hermione was right, and she deserved a chance after all.

* * *

**As you can see there is neither huge amounts of bullying or Raven getting frustrated and blowing things up in this chapter but it is coming, I promise you. Does the way I'm bringing the trio and Raven together make the readers angry, or happy? This I would like to know in reviews. Also, does anyone have anything they'd love to happen in future chapters? I'm open to suggestions :)**


	11. Unnecessary Risks

**Sorry this has taken so long! I own nothing.**

* * *

Raven had assumed that Hermione had used up all her boldness with the offer to help her with magic, and half expected it to come to nothing. So it was to her shock when, for the first time, she found she had company is the Library. Thankfully Hermione realised Raven didn't do well with smiles and friendly tones, and simply sat down at her table to read her book while Raven continued to practise _Wingardium Leviosa, _a spell the younger witch had mastered as a bright-eyed and even bushier-haired eleven year-old.

"May I see your wand?" She asked after half an hour of silent companionship. Raven turned it over without hesitation. She wasn't attached to the stick in the slightest, something that put Hermione off for a second because most Wizards and Witches were incredibly touchy about who held their wands. "You got it from Olivander's, right?"

"Yes." Raven said quietly. Madam Pince was already glaring at them, waiting for them to break a rule by performing advanced or dangerous magic in the presence of her precious books. The Librarian would be waiting a long time at the rate she was improving, Raven thought wryly.

"I don't think there will be anything faulty with the wand then..." Hermione considered, before giving it a wave. The quill lying in the middle of the table jerked upwards into the air and hung there, not as gracefully as Hermione was accustomed to, as the wand didn't quite fit her. Still, it worked well enough. "Not to say you're faulty." She amended quickly, feelings embarrassment creep over her at Raven's stare. The two didn't quite feel comfortable around each other, and the meeting had the feel of an awkward date Hermione wanted desperately to work out.

"Obviously I'm the one at fault." Raven snapped, irritated at the attempt to raise her self esteem. "I have figured that out by now."

"Right." Hermione said nervously. She'd read a few books about wand-making in her spare time and knew that the ingredients used to make a wand could affect its functioning. Different cores, for instance, suited different Wizards and thus different approaches to magic. Though, in most cases magical children were taught with the universal, one-size-fits-all method and only in cases where there was a learning disorder involved or the individual wished to learn very advanced magic was learning tailored to wand type even considered an option. "Um, could you tell me what it's made from?"

Raven raised an eyebrow and looked disdainful, though inwardly she was cursing. She hadn't planned to reveal anything personal to Hermione in this little tutoring session, and not five minutes in she already found herself about to give her information Hagrid had warned her not to spread around. Living under Robin's roof had taught her the important of keeping sensitive information protected at all times, but she knew if she wanted Hermione's help she would have to have faith that she was one of the good guys. Raven didn't trust Dumbledore as far as she could throw him without her powers, but she did trust his judgement, and he had told her specificly that Harry and his two closest friends could help her. It was time she started listening.

"It's made of cherry. Just over ten inches. It's core is a Thestral hair." She said each part of the wands description as casually as the next, lingering no longer over the fact it was made of cherry than the fact it's core signified death and bad luck. Hermione reacted immediately, unintentionally widening her eyes and gasping before looking down at her book, embarrassed. _The girl could do with a lesson or two on how to reign her emotions in, __Raven thought mildly__. _Not that _she_ was going to be offering them.

"That's a bit unusual." Hermione babbled, chilled at the revelation and now trying to hide it. "I mean, not unheard of. It's just I might have to read up more on that one, since I'm used to the three main cores, Unicorn Hair and Pheonix Feathers and Dragon Heartstring I mean. I know that core is very rare and volatile of course-"

"Stop rambling and tell me what you really think." Raven dead panned. Hermione blushed.

"It's just that... Thestrals are meant to be very dark. They're associated with death, because only one who's seen death can see them. Most of it's rubbish, but there's superstition about wands with their hairs too..."

"Spit it out."

"Well, for a start that to wield one you need great power and talent."

Raven rolled her eyes.

"And a relationship with death."

"Well at least one point is right." Raven muttered, and Hermione blushed harder.

"I'm sorry." Hermione muttered. The expression that had crossed Raven's face was too similar to the one that crossed Harry's when he was thinking of his parents or Cedric Diggory for her to stay silent. She hadn't meant to dredge up bad memories. Raven fixed her with a hard stare, those blue-violet eyes making it impossible to look away.

"You know I'm a demon. A creature of death. Don't act so surprised."

"I didn't-" Hermione began to protest. For a moment, the witch had forgotten that very fact. It was hard to reconcile the image of a demon she had from muggle books and movies with the slight girl sitting across from her. If anyone in this castle was to sprout horns, in her view it should be Draco Malfoy.

"Didn't you spend the first few weeks of our acquaintance scouting the Library for information about my kind?" The demoness asked airily.

"I guess I did." Hermione met her gaze, almost defiantly. Never, _never_, would Hermione apologise for conducting research. She squared her shoulders and urged herself to get a grip. Raven wasn't dangerous, not to her. If she was, Dumbledore wouldn't have made it so easy for them to cross paths. There was no way that this frosty exterior went all the way through to the core, she reminded herself. Even if it did, they would not get any work done if she reacted the way everyone else did, with fear.

There was just something about Raven that everyone seemed to recognise as powerful, despite the pity or derision they gave her for being so useless at magic, the only thing that really mattered in the Wizarding world. She carried herself with an aura of mystery that left many unwilling to write her off just yet. Hermione was too smart to think that teleportation was all she was capable of, and wanted to find herself on Raven's side when exactly what other powers she had were revealed. To do that, she would have to ignore all the sarcastic comments and treat Raven like anyone else.

"So my history of death doesn't need explanation. Nor does it help us figure out why I can't use my wand." Raven said simply. Bristling at the implication her line of thought was pointless and taking her own advice, Hermione sat up a little straighter.

"I wouldn't say it doesn't help." She said politely. "We should explore as many avenues as possible. I'll try and figure out if anyone's ever had trouble with Thestral hair wands in the past then. There should be something on it somewhere here." Hermione said, looking around at the huge shelves of the Library fondly. Raven thought Hermione seemed to recover from her biting comments much faster than others did, and put it down to the high likelihood she'd spent a lifetime teased for her brains. Those who constantly had barbs thrown at them learnt to bounce back much faster than those constantly praised. She supposed that was why if Raven had to pick a favourite out of all the people in the castle, she would pick Hermione. She liked people who could challenge her and ignore the wall she put up. People like her friends back home.

"You do that." Raven mumbled, returning to her book and effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

Raven teleported into the Headmaster's office again for their meeting on Friday. He'd owled her the password, but she neither wanted to play by his rules or risk being seen outside his office and draw suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore." She greeted, teleporting directly into his office from a bathroom stall on the same floor. Hiding her powers was getting tiresome. She often found herself on the verge of levitating during meditation in her dormitory before she remembered where she was. "I'm here for our meeting." It seemed he was in the middle of a conversation with Professor Snape, despite Raven's carefully timed arrival. Seven thirty on the dot. He was the one off-scheduale, so she didn't feel like she was intruding in the slightest.

Severus spun around to fix her with a livid expression. She returned his gaze, apparently bored. In reality, she was simply apprehensive. Every meeting with the Headmaster usually had her beyond frustrated, tired of his riddles and half-truths. She would much rather be upstairs listening to Hermione's latest theories on her wand malfunctioning. At least she would leave _that _discussion with a feeling of accomplishment, even if all the two girls did was rule out another failed idea.

"Miss Roth, in future you will wait outside and knock before entering." Dumbledore said, not angrily, but gravely.

"Noted." She dead panned, sweeping into the spare seat. It irritated her that Snape was here, but more than that, it aroused her suspicion. Twice now, when she had come to visit Dumbledore, he had already been deep in conversation with the Potions master. Each time Snape had been furious at the interruption. Like he didn't like that she could appear at any moment and overhear. A voice in her head told her it was perfectly normal that the Head of Slytherin house didn't like the prospect of a student, especially a Gryffindor, eavesdropping on his conversations, but another voice that sounded like Robin told her to stay on alert around him.

"Severus, I will see you later about what we have discussed." The Headmaster said calmly, meaningfully. Raven narrowed her eyes.

Dumbledore looked at her and sighed, as if she were a child unable to listen to even the most simplistic of commands and he had no idea what to do about it.

"Lemon drop?" He offered unexpectedly, gesturing to a bowl of glassy yellow sweets. Face impassive, she declined. Snape eyed the pile with similar distaste. Dumbledore took one for himself and unwrapped it, appraising her.

"I wish to discuss some news I have received from my spy among the Death Eaters. It seems that Voldemort has indeed contacted and made a deal with Trigon." he said, popping it in his mouth.

"And you trust this spy wholeheartedly?" she asked sharply, dread blooming in her stomach like a drop of ink in water. She had expected such bad things to happen, so it was a very dull blow when he answered:

"With my life."

"And there is no way he or she could be mistaken?"

She desperately wanted whoever the spy was to be wrong. If Voldemort had made contact he was more powerful than she had anticipated. Of course she had read about all his horrific actions in the books up in her dormitory. She had read about the murders and the torturing, and recognised victim's sir names (like Potter and Longbottom) that could be traced to her very own schoolmates. However, Raven knew the same death count could be reached by a muggle with a machine gun at a football game. Far more could be killed with a simple nuclear weapon, of which there were many in existence in the muggle world. There were other wars raging around the globe, and somehow that had trivialised what Voldemort had done in her mind and down-played the current threat he posed.

"None." Dumbledore replied. He didn't seem worried at all. It was like he had anticipated such an action would occur a long time ago, and everything was moving along as he expected. She sighed and leant back into her seat, letting his words wash over her. The Headmaster gave her a second, and then unleashed the second wave of bad news.

"He has ordered your capture."

"Dead or alive?" She asked, sitting back up. Now was not the time to be overcome. Perversely, immediate danger made her blood pump faster, motivated her. Voldemort was a sinister shadow in the background, his actions murky and unknowable. She couldn't counter him directly right now, but she _could _thwart any attempts to capture her just as well as she could back in Jump City.

"Alive, for now. As I told you, your father would most likely be freed from your bindings if you are murdered, though Voldemort seems to be reluctant to kill you." Dumbledore said, raising an eyebrow at the sudden sheen of determination that came to his newest students face. He had expected her to pale and attempt to hide her fear, but instead she had the air of one spoiling for a fight.

"How do you think he plans on capturing me?"

"It's not an urgent task for him, though he will put various plans in motion soon no doubt. I cannot offer you any extra protection from the order as all our members are balancing their public lives, many of which include jobs at the ministry, with important duties for the Order. I can only caution you not to take unnecessary risks."

"I don't take unnecessary risks." She replied tightly. "Is that all?"

"No. I wish to know if you have made any progress in regards to wand magic." Dumbledore leaned forward. His greatest passion, far before politics, was knowledge. If he'd had the time, he would have researched her problem himself. Serverus Snape rolled his eyes: In his opinion if a girl of sixteen could not perform a simple _Evanesco, _said sixteen year old girl was not a witch. It was plausible enough that it was the dormant magical blood from whoever her father was that allowed her to see magical dwellings like Hogwarts, just as Argus Filtch could. Snape thought of her as a demon-squib hybrid who was a waste of oxygen in most classes the school had to offer, and expected little from the daughter of a Marauder.

"Hermione Granger has taken to helping me but no. None so far." She paused. "I would much rather fight Voldemort on my own terms. My magic may not be as flexible as yours, but it is far more powerful. Wasn't the entire point of making me a partial Order Member that I could use magic that can overcome the rules of yours?"

"That, and your knowledge of Trigon. However, we cannot risk revealing your powers too soon Raven. Even if you were to use them here at Hogwarts there is a large chance someone like young Mr. Malfoy might notice and inform his father. If Voldemort is able to test and discover your magic before the crucial moment when it could stop him, your powers will not be worth as much to the cause."

"So you want me to continue pursuing wand magic." She sighed.

"Very much so. I am pleased to hear you have bonded with Miss Granger enough that she offered her assistance. Share yourself with her, and I'm sure she will uncover the solution to your trouble."

"What does that mean?" She asked incredulously. Perhaps Dumbledore was insane. _Share yourself with her_?

"Only that Miss Granger will find it difficult to gain insight if you insist of hiding your true thoughts and feelings from her." He leaned forward. "I am not suggesting you share your personal secrets with everyone you meet. Nor am I insisting you must do so with Harry Potter and his friends. I am _asking_ you to consider making true friends here. In times of war such relationships are more valuable than any magic."

Raven stared at him.

"The power of friendship." She said dully. "You're telling me I wont be able to use my wand until I discover the _power of friendship?_"

Even Snape looked embarrassed. Dumbledore chuckled.

"I think I am, my dear."

"I already have friends. At home."

"You are not at home." He reminded her gently. That was the understatement of the year. Raven narrowed her eyes and stood up. "and one can never have too many friends. They are rather like lemon drops in that respect." He said, taking another sweet from the bowl.

"I'll keep what you've said in mind if you inform me any time this Spy comes up with new information." She said stiffly, dragging her eyes away from the candy with effort. _How could a man who many lauded as the most brilliant Wizard of his time be so... ____strange?__,_ she wondered.

"You ask too much." Snape hissed silkily. "Especially for a student!"

"The information pertains to me." She said, doing her best imitation of Robin's authoritative voice. "And I am no student."

"I shall inform you of each new development." Dumbledore promised. She nodded and teleported away again before he could add another crazy observation of little meaning to her.

"She suspects me of being the spy." Snape said with narrowed eyes.

"I think you may be right." Dumbledore replied mildly. "No way to know for sure, so lets not dwell on it."

"You're not worried? You are currently blackmailing her, for all intents and purposes. She doesn't seem like the type to ignore leverage."

"She would never reveal your current position. She would know it would be the death of you, and I suspect she is a young woman with a loud conscience."

Snape stared at the Headmaster incredulously.

"She is hardly sweet and caring." He drawled.

"It is obvious being prickly has worked for her in the past." Dumbledore said.

"And you think it wont now?" Snape asked lazily, largely uninterested in the Headmaster's theories on their most demanding student's wand problem.

"I have my suspicions."

* * *

The annual visit to Hogsmeade was a welcome break from the castle for Harry, though he was feeling rather nervous about the meeting Hermione had organised with other students interested in a defence group. He had no idea what to say to them, and hoped she would take care of the talking. It was today, or never, after weeks of absent-mindedly planning lessons and wishing he could hex Umbridge every time he saw her toad-like face stretched out in a triumphant smile. Steeling himself, he waited with Ron by the notice board for Hermione to met them. She showed up some five minutes late, dressing as she went.

"Sorry, Parviti convinced me to try her mood changing nail polish and _neglected_ to tell me it took fifteen minutes to dry." Hermione huffed, winding a Gryffindor scarf around her neck.

"Huh?" Ron asked. Ginny, who was leaving the common room on the arm of Michael Corner, rolled her eyes at Hermione and mouthed _'boys' _

"Oh don't worry!" She sighed. "We'd better get going, we don't want to be late for our own meeting." she gestured in annoyance, and Harry noticed her nails were bright orange - not a colour he was used to her sporting.

"Just how many people have you invited?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

"Oh you know.. Just a few people from every house but Slytherin, obviously. Some people wanted to bring friends. Anyone who was interested really -oh!" She paused mid-sentance. "Wait a second, we've forgotten to invite someone!" She gasped, hurriedly showing her arms through her jacket and turning around.

"Who?" Ron demanded. Harry's stomach leapt momentarily at the thought of another person willing to listen to what he had to say, before dropping at the thought of having to say anything at all.

"Raven!" She answered, mid-dash towards the girl's dormitories. Harry knew she and Raven had been spending a decent amount of time together lately, having seen them pouring over books in the library, but he didn't relish the thought of standing up to speak and having to see her narrowed eyes watching him. He felt like that sort of thing might cause him to forget the speech he was writing in a panic. Ron grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, talking in a low voice.

"Hermione you have got to be kidding. I don't think even Harry could teach her how to stun Neville, let alone a death eater."

"It would be rude not to invite her along Ronald." Hermione said dangerously. "And besides, that's why we_ need_ to invite her. At the end of the day, useless at magic or not, she's going to be fighting Voldemort just like the rest of us." she spun out from his grip and broke into a jog up the stairs, leaving her ominous prediction in her wake.

"The worst part is, she's right." Ron shook his head. "But Raven just makes me feel so bloody uncomfortable."

Harry agreed with Ron about how uncomfortable Raven made him, but he said nothing in response. Like always, when Voldemort was brought to the front of his mind, trivial things like public speaking didn't seem like much of a challenge any more. Rather than making him feel more optimistic, Hermione's words had given him new motivation. No matter how much it felt like he was the only one Voldemort wanted, Harry knew that wasn't true. There would always be other people in the firing line, and Raven especially seemed to be marked by fate to fight for the rest of her life. Umbridge was doing absolutely nothing to prepare them all for what lay ahead, and if he could help any of his class mates in any way, that was more important than quashing the nerves.

Raven trailed behind Hermione reluctantly, dressed once more, Harry noted with a small shock, in the same outfit she had materialised in Grimmauld Place wearing. She had planned to spend the day reading up on Voldemort and drafting more letters to her team that would no doubt join the previous trys screwed up at the bottom of her trunk, but Hermione's offer had been too intriguing to pass up. Dumbledore's notion that spending more time with the trio would help her wand magic somehow, along with her new truce with Hermione and a small desire to see Hogsmeade made it seem silly to skip the opportunity. Especially since this meeting was clearly an attempt to subtly spit in Proffesor Umbridge's face, which was quite alright with Raven. That women was horrid and nothing at all like a teacher should be.

Her reluctance came from having to try and be sociable with Harry and Ron. She found that, as they started walking through the castle and out of doors, they were just as keen to talk to her as she was to them, and the journey was nice and quiet. Hermione didn't speak up much either – most of what they had to talk about had too much to do with Raven's wand situation. Without having to say it aloud, Hermione clearly knew not to talk about such things in front of her close friends. Raven was glad of that. There were some things, like her wands core, that she didn't want to become common knowledge.

There was something about Hogmeade that made her feel like she'd seen it once before in a dream. Perhaps it was the impossibility of the objects she glimpsed in the windows of Zonko's joke shop, or the collection of owls she heard screeching as she passed the post office. The entire village held an aura of wonder and magic she had never seen outside Diagon Alley, and, perhaps childishly, she felt suddenly safe there. It was... quaint. She couldn't help imagining the looks on her team mate's faces if they saw the soccer-ball sized lollipops or neon green candy floss students were leaving Honeydukes with. It didn't matter to her that Harry and Ron clearly did not feel comfortable in her presence. She was content to observe and admire both the natural windswept beauty of the rolling hills and the magical ambiance of the village, deflecting Hermione's fresh attempts at initiating conversation between the four of them at the same time.

They continued walking, bypassing small stone buildings lined up side by side, one after another, their windows warmed from within and their doorways inviting. The wind outside was brutal and demanding, whipping Raven's hair this way and that like it couldn't make up it's mind which way to push her. In contrast to the uninviting weather, each little store or tea room looked, from the outside at least, a haven she was impatient to enter. Except of course, for the building Hermione led them directly to. The two boys looked at their friend doubtfully, and she launched into a nervous dialogue about why she choose it. Something about Flitwick, though Raven wasn't really listening.

The Hog's Head tavern was, in summary, disgusting. A layer of dust and grime coated every surface, including the windows, which were so thick with dust it was impossible to see out of them to the view which could have been it's only redeeming feature. Even touching the door handle made Raven feel distinctly dirty, as if she needed a long hot shower in which to scrub her sullied, top layer of skin off. And she, in her time as a Teen Titan, had seen and been forced to touch, some pretty disgusting things. The pub was already occupied by some strangers and a few students who greeted the trio warmly and looked on Raven with suspicion. The Weasley twins however, patted her on the back and offered her a seat, their joking reminding her forcefully of Beastboy. Drinks were ordered, and she sat in silence as a steady stream of students entered and Harry got up to speak.

It seemed wherever she went in this magical world, Raven could not escape reminders of her faraway friends. She was in Scotland for Azar's sakes, yet she still saw them everywhere! It was a world away from sunny California where miracles were performed by technology rather than spells, but at least once a day she heard or saw something that would pull her mind back there. The way in which Lavender sat on her bed reading _Witch Weekly _had her pining to talk to Starfire. The way the houses went crazy over Quiddich brought the image of Cyborg yelling at the television during a football game to the forefront of her mind. She even found herself thinking of the members of Titan's East she rarely spent time with. The Hufflepuff colours worn on a girl with skin the colour of coffee had her wondering how Bumblebee was coping as their leader. A glimpse of red hair had her musing vaguely about Speedy, before the person came closer and more often than not turned out to be Ronald Weasley.

As people began to question Harry and his version of events, she was forcefully reminded of Robin. The way her leader defended his ideas in a stressful situation was mirrored in the anger Harry showed when it became clear many attendees were mere seekers of gossip.

She knew she should write to Robin. Each time she thought back to her home, she was hit by guilt. Guilt at how she allowed the theory of two fathers to distract her from her work, putting them all in danger. Guilt at leaving so suddenly and going without contact for weeks. Robin had offered her a month of leave, but she knew she would need more. Much more. Hearing various students pipe up to back Harry, offering examples of his competency at Defence Against the Dark Arts, at fighting Voldemort, only reinforced that. Judging by some of the intricate plans Harry had stopped, It was going to take a long time to stop Voldemort. Thus, a long time to discover her true father, and a_ long _time before she was ready to resume her duties as a protector of Jump city. The interesting subject matter of the new defence group was sufficient enough to allow her to push all these thoughts to the back of her mind once more. _Later. _She told herself. _I'll worry about that later. _

Philosophers stone? Chamber of Secrets? Triwizard Tournament? All things she knew she would have to look up as soon as she got back to her dormitory, though the impressed- no, awed- reactions of her fellow students told her all she really needed to know. Harry Potter was excellent at fighting Voldemort. His assertions that it was all luck, that he had help, were all things she could relate to. She saw, quickly, that she had underestimated him. Everything he told the small group gathered in the Hog's Head pub seemed to have spilled from her own thoughts on fighting darkness. You could have all the power in the world, but what mattered in the end was luck and those you had to return home to. It was a concept she knew would go over the heads of many Hogwart's students, one that only a seasoned victim of Fate's mean temper could form on their own. Victims like she and Harry.

At the end of the discussion, Hermione produced parchment for anyone wanting to join the defence group to sign. Raven took out her quill and signed neatly below _Cho Chang_'s small print. Extra practise couldn't hurt. And she wanted to see more of this side of Harry Potter. The serious side that balanced out the hot-head. The boy could be her brother after all. Either way, he was the Dark Lord's target and, according to Dumbledore, the key to unlocking her potential as a traditional, wand-using witch. She caught him watching the shiny-haired Asian girl who had signed before her with a lovesick expression. Another idea popped into her mind, one of questionable morals. A way to inconspicuously get one of his hairs for DNA testing. It was more than a little crazy, not to mention out of her character, and to try it now would be premature. Still, she filed the idea away for later, should she need to take drastic measures.

She left the Hog's head on her own, disappearing in the swell of the crowd that began to depart. She wanted to be on her own, free from Hermione's _simply fascinating _dialogue on historical Wizarding dwellings and Ron and Harry's shared looks of discomfort. She often found that while the castle was huge, there was never a place she could go to really be alone. The grounds offered some solitude, but there was always the school looming in the background. Here there were a few people around, but they weren't students. Those that had left the Hog's head with her took off at a run against the wind and anyone she came across on her slow walk back must have been a resident of the village. Strangers, who thankfully ignored her.

Spotting something out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly began to re-think her strategy of walking alone. Draco Malfoy was watching her. He was camouflaged in the cover of pine trees near the fence that bordered the Shrieking Shack, and would have been hidden completely if not for his white-blond hair. If it had been deeper in winter-time, when she felt the entire village would get a good coating of snow, she wouldn't have seen him at all.

Thanks to her slow pace, she was no where near the main part of the village yet and to speed up to a jog now would be obvious. Though he too was alone – unusual for a young man who was not often seen without a large Slytherin entourage – she didn't want him to know she'd seen him. She felt threatened, as if she'd walked right into a hunter's trap.

Dumbledore's warning replayed in her head. _Do not take unnecessary risks._ What was she doing out here, all alone when she knew Voldemort had ordered her capture? Something about the way the Death Eater's son was watching her, the fact he was alone and making an effort to conceal himself, told her she was in danger. Could she take him? Certainly. But not without her powers. If it came to a Wizarding duel, the kind she had learnt of in History of Magic the week before, Draco would have her tied up and delivered to Voldemort before she could fail to cast _Lumos._

* * *

**What does Draco want? To capture her? To ask her on a date? To provoke her into a wizard-killing frenzy?**


	12. Hidden Talents

**So for ages you saucy reviewers have asked for Raven to (along the lines of) loose control and show some students her powers. I agree with you all that it's not very fun having people pity Raven because in our minds she is so bad ass, but I have refrained from blowing her cover here. Instead I thought it would be fun to have her not rely on her powers for a change (she does have other skills) and hope you enjoy the results and that the situation is at least similar to what you wanted. **

**I own nothing but the idea of demon virus sperm. Litton Lane is just a random lane made up for the purposes of needing a name for a lane, and is obviously not real. Absinthe is real, but I don't own that either - can't even get my hands on the stuff.**

* * *

**Litton Lane, Hogsmeade**

"Roth." Draco called out, and Raven turned to see him push away from the tree and move out from under the cover of shadows. She stopped, and with a deliberate widening of her eyes, pretended to be startled. He smirked. For some reason that made her feel safer. Perhaps because only an idiot would assume she would show her surprise visibly once they had spent more than a minute in her company, and that deception gave her a little confidence. Despite being unable to use her natural powers or the elusive wand-focused magic, she could still play with his mind.

"Draco Malfoy." She returned his greeting coldly, as if regaining her composure. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want." He said casually, meandering towards her in a way that was clearly meant to intimidate. She felt herself stiffen. Perhaps she had underestimated him. She certainly felt threatened.

"I'm not sure I do." She replied evenly. She kept duel focus on her opponent and on her peripheral vision - she wanted to spot any passers-by that could be of assistance if they came along. For the moment, they were alone on the small lane, blocked from the Hog's Heads view by the small hill she had walked down, and blocked from the view of the main village by a corner and copious amounts of pine.

"You." he replied, deliberately looking her up and down. Raven took a step back. Was it possible he was here to ask her on a date? She saw his right hand hovering near his pant's pocket. Unless he was preparing to pull out a bunch of roses, she doubted it. His behaviour was meant to scare her. The way he said it, the way he looked at her - it was likening her to a possession. A mere object with no choice in the matter. He meant to show her he was going to do what he wanted. She saw people like that all the time in Jump City.

"I didn't think I was your type." She said, not even bothering to subtly unzip her bag and give herself easy access to her wand. While there might have been something to the idea adrenaline could help her cast spells, now was not the time to test that theory. She did not want to reveal her powers, but if that was the only thing that would save her, she would not hesitate. For all she knew, Voldemort was sitting in some cave chatting with Trigon about her powers anyway. And besides, Draco would be easier to fight if he thought she was unarmed and unprepared – which she was for the most part. She wished Hermione and her friends would come across them, and felt sick at the thought of them having one last drink at the pub to celebrate how well the meeting went. Her only plan for the moment was to buy time.

"Don't flatter yourself." He looked at her with disgust, but when she tapped into her empathy she felt his nervous excitement. A little fear too. He was anticipating something and it chilled her. At times like these she was used to having four other powerful friends watching her back, and she would have given up meditation for a year to have them standing behind her now.

"I know what you are." Draco added with another smirk, as if he expected her to gasp or beg for him to keep her secret. While she had to admit he was hauntingly handsome and at the moment in a position of power over her, she was able to look back at him, unimpressed. It was moments like these when he revealed how young and inexperienced he was. From the way people talked about his father, it seemed as if Draco had learnt every technique he employed against her now from observation. None of it came from within, and his true nature poked through with the presumption his statement would have an adverse affect on her. Raven knew he wouldn't tell a soul she was a demon. If he did, he would be laughed out of the castle. Her incompetency at wand magic (the only kind most magic-folk knew of) proved useful for once. Demons were _powerful_ and in the eyes of most, she was decidedly _not_. Draco had not thought this through, which made her relax. If there was someone more powerful helping him, like a Death Eater, surely they would have realised the mistake.

"Then you'll know to back off." she replied darkly, and the smirk slid off his face. A few people were walking by, but they were bundled up against the wind. Shouting out to them was not an option. Even if Malfoy didn't have back up, he had a wand perfectly capable of stunning her and she didn't want to startle him into attacking. Raven wouldn't put it past him to act on instinct rather than logic. He knew she was a half demon, and yet here he was with his threatening words and smirks, like demons were no scarier than the average house elf.

"Please. Don't make me laugh Roth. I've seen your pathetic attempts at magic enough to know it's not some elaborate cover. I'm not exactly quaking in my dragon-hide boots." Draco sneered, re-gaining some of his swagger as the people carried on down the lane towards the centre of the village.

"Fancy." She noted, her eyes flickering down to the shoes that appeared to be made of leather, but with a greenish tinge. "So you're trying to tell me Voldemort sent you to capture me because I'm _that_ non-threatening? Sounds like a risky plan."

"Voldemort didn't send me. Though he will reward me when I bring you back. And no, not really risky at all. Considering you were stupid enough to come out here alone."

_So he is alone, _she thought with grim satisfaction. Draco had decided to capture her for the glory of it. Either he had overheard what she was, or his father had told him, but he hadn't been specificly instructed to come here. He hadn't been warned of her other powers, and was too idiotic to question why no Death Eaters had been sent to find her already if it was _this _easy. Even if it meant revealing her powers, there was no way she was getting kidnapped today.

"Any one could come around the corner at any second." She pointed out, nevertheless mentally chastising herself for coming alone.

"That's why I'm giving you the opportunity to come quietly. He'll try and convince you later even if you refuse, but trust me when I say it would be much more pleasant for you to join us now." Draco smiled unpleasantly, and moved suddenly. He withdrew his wand from his pocket, and took another step towards her, closing the gap. Raven hadn't anticipated it - his inexperience made him unpredictable - and instinct kicked in. She forgot all about her powers, having not used them in weeks, and his close proximity didn't lend itself well to them anyway. Instead, Robin's combat training came to her mind and she found herself hitting out with her right hand, connecting with him at the wrist and knocking his wand into the air.

Not wasting time or the element of surprise, she punched him in the solar plexus, hoping to wind him. He twisted away, unfortunately grabbing hold of her hair in the process and pulling her with him. He wasn't excessively strong, but gravity was on his side and she felt herself falling. Thankfully, she remembered Combat training well, and used the momentum to her advantage - Head butting him viciously. Keeping her chin down, curving into the impact, and connecting on the top of her head rather than her face, just as Robin had taught her. She saw red, and out of sheer bitterness, grabbed a hold of his shoulders as he stumbled back and slammed her knee upwards into his groin with as much force as she could muster. His pained, almost guttural exclamation filled her with satisfaction, as did the sight of him sinking to the ground and curling into the foetal position.

"I'll have to decline your offer." She said icily, picking his fallen wand up from where it had landed among the scrub. He was moaning silently, eyes scrunched up against the pain. Quite frankly, Raven was surprised she had such an impact. She had never had much faith in her physical strength, but she supposed she was used to fighting fit, practised criminals like Red-X who had probably started off in street fights before they hit puberty. It was clear Draco was a young man who couldn't take a hit, had never _had _to take a hit, and thus what would only put Robin down for a few seconds floored the young Malfoy. _I really should have had more faith in Robin's training, _she thought. While she'd never thought she was more than adequate at self defence, never having much occasion to use it outside sparring class (which she could never win against anyone but Beastboy, what with Starfire and Cyborg having superhuman strength, and Robin being a martial arts guru), she should have expected Robin would never have let the team out of the Tower if they weren't competent.

"Bloody Hell!" She whipped around at the exclamation. Ron, who had uttered it, along with Harry and Hermione stood atop the hill, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Raven had to admit she felt a sense of relief at seeing them with their wands drawn. Though she doubted Malfoy would be getting up any time soon to attack her, she didn't relish the thought of having to put him down again. As an Azarathian, she knew she would feel guilty about this act of violence later. Growing up it was drilled into every child living there that while there were many things worth dying for, _nothing _was worth killing for, and that violence was abhorrent. Still, the part of her that was a Titan through and through knew that violence was sometimes necessary. She also couldn't deny that it had felt damn good.

"That was amazing!" Harry said, walking slowly towards her, his face splitting in to a grin. Hermione extended her wand and with a muttered spell had Malfoy paralysed.

"Just about as effective as _Stupefy."_ She said dryly.

"I'd say!" Ron enthused. He looked down at Draco with undisguised glee. "Hey Malfoy, I always thought you'd fight like a girl. Hair pulling?" He snorted. Raven ran a dismissive hand through her locks, pulling out the strands he had tugged loose in their scrap.

"What should we do with him?" Hermione asked.

"Never mind that, what did you beat him up for?" Ron asked. He was grinning, an expression Raven wasn't used to seeing on his face when he looked at her. She far preferred the looks of suspicion. "We were just walking back and _bam! _we saw you smack his wand out of his hand and all the rest."

"He was attempting to bring me to Voldemort." She answered dispassionately.

"Voldemort sent _him_?" Harry asked in disbelief. Raven smiled wryly.

"No. I think his father must have mentioned what I was and that Voldemort wished to speak with me, and Draco got it into his head there would be glory in it if he was the one to capture me. I doubt he told anyone of his plans."

From the furious way Draco was glaring at her despite his frozen body, the four of them guessed her theory was correct.

"So... do we take him to Dumbledore?" Hermione asked anxiously. Raven shook her head.

"I don't think so. There's nothing he would be able to do. Malfoy would manage to find an excuse. After all, he never got around to doing anything. All this does is confirm Voldemort wants to capture me. Besides, he's not really much of a threat, is he?" she looked down at him, temporarily stuck curled up in a ball. "And I'd like to give him the pleasure of explaining today to the Dark Lord, myself."

Ron whooped and Harry grinned, but Hermione had reservations.

"I don't know, what if he attacks you with his wand next time?" she asked worriedly.

"I have other ways of protecting myself." Raven replied.

"Do you ever!" Ron grinned. "That's going in my mental montage of Malfoy's greatest moments, right next to the time he got turned into a ferret."

In the end, they left Malfoy on the road to lay there until Hermione's spell wore off in it's own time. Raven would go to Dumbledore and explain later that evening, but for now she was just happy to have escaped the first attempt to kidnap her.

* * *

**Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 2.00 Pm. **

It was early afternoon on a Wednesday, and while his godson was sitting down to potions class, Sirius Black was getting blind drunk in the study of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He was not totally shameless - he had drawn the moth-bitten curtains in order to give the illusion of late evening, though he was unsuccessful in his attempt. Persistent sunshine still streamed in between the holes in the fabric, lighting bright spots on the worn carpet. Sirius looked around at the room, feeling his spirits sink even further. _What an absolute shithole. _

Still, anything was better than Azkaban. He could still remember his old cell, his home for thirteen long years. An concrete cube, 3 by 3 metres and bare but for an outcrop of stone that served as a bed and magical chains that would come alive like clanking snakes to hold you upright and immobile when visitors came to the prison. When he closed his eyes he could evoke the scent of Azkaban, of piss, filth and despair. He didn't need to remember the feeling of helplessness, because that same feeling had a tight grip on him now. Just as he had been trapped then, he was trapped here now.

Sirius was the type of man who needed certain things to be happy. Freedom, for one. Laughter. Company. Someone to be awed by him. He had none of those things here, hadn't had any of them since he'd been arrested all those years ago. He'd been stripped of them in Azkaban, where nothing was in his control, where no one laughed, where no one visited, where no one envied him. Just when he'd thought he might be regaining the things that distinguished him from a pathetic shell of a man when he'd escaped, certain _people _had to destroy all hope. Dumbledore had made it impossible for him to leave his mother's house. Raven had made sure he could not laugh, had made sure no one wanted to visit him. Once again, no one was awed by him. No one wanted to be in his shoes.

Such a contrast to his younger days. When Hogwarts had liberated him from the responsibilities of being the eldest son of the most Ancient and Noble house of Black and laughter, company and students awed by him had been plentiful. What he wouldn't give to go back... back to when he had the Marauders and he was whole. It seemed like the moment fractures had appeared in the infamous foursome, fractures had begun to appear in Sirius.

Sirius went to take another swig of Ogden's Old Fire whiskey, keen to feel the ragged burn of it sliding down his throat, only to find it considerably lighter than anticipated. His kept the rim of the tipped bottle to his lips in vain - nothing. Empty. _Would it be over dramatic to use the same adjective to describe my life? _he wondered. _Perhaps not, but it would be incorrect. _

Sirius finally let the bottle fall to the floor, and thought it over. He had a rather full life. Full of grief and anxiety, that is. The grief was normal - it had been his constant companion since James and Lily had been murdered. The Anxiety was not. Sirius did not fear fighting, confrontation or death. He had faced much worse things in prison. He'd thought he was a man who didn't fear anything, until Raven had shown up and he realised there was nothing more terrifying than the future.

Had he not suffered enough? Why was the trial of that girl, that _demon_, being forced on him? The threat of her hung over his head at all times, like a guillotine blade that could fall any second. He had nothing against her personally of course, but Merlin he was just _too tired. _Sirius was exhausted by life. Looking to the future and weathering each blow when it did not deliver on it's promises was not high on his priorities. He wanted to look back to the past, to when things were good. He wanted to talk to his godson, who reminded him so much of James it warmed his heart better than Fire Whiskey could. He wanted to reminisce with Remus about their exploits at school.

Raven _should _have reminded him of good times, of when he was young and happy and got drunk when out with friends instead of alone in the afternoon. But she simply didn't. Perhaps if her nature had been different, Sirius would have thought the idea of her as his daughter a blessing. Had she possessed the easy-going, flirty and vibrant air of the mother whom he recalled more and more of each day, she could have been his chance at redemption, his new purpose in life. Instead she embodied all the seriousness of war and suffering. She showed only the emotional detachment Sirius had used as a coping mechanism for grief. The thought of dealing with her until he died was the thought of a future that could not exist without the sorrow and loss dark magic had wrought on his life already.

He was only in his mid-thirties, and Wizards lived for a long, long time. The thought had him crawling jerkily across the floor in search of another bottle. This was how Remus Lupin found him.

"Sirius." he said simply, finally locating his oldest friend after a long search of headquarters. He did not sigh, but only because he had been expecting this.

"Remus, my old friend! Come and have a drink!" Sirius slurred, triumphantly pulling a bottle of Absinthe out of nowhere. Remus looked at Sirius with a pained expression - the responsible thing would be to summon that bottle right out of his hand, cast a sobering charm on him and have a nice long talk about what was bothering him.

Yet, he didn't want to be responsible. Dumbledore had set him the task of contacting (and in some cases, re contacting) as many Werewolves as possible in the hope that Voldemort's new ties with demons would be enough to scare them away from supporting him. Remus had spent the entire week in a Swiss Mountain Village that had been plagued by his kind for centuries in an attempt to convince the Werewolves that lived on it's outskirts to ally themselves with the Order. He had known from the start it was futile - those who had lived that way for so long would never be convinced to change - yet tried anyway, and had nothing more than a few nasty scratches, frayed nerves, a headache, and a definite NO from the Swiss Werewolves to show for the trip. Add to his physical exhaustion the strain of avoiding Tonks for her own good, and he was inclined to take Sirius up on his offer.

He plonked to the ground and conjured up two glasses. Neither of them much cared that it was nearing three o'clock.

"Do you know, I've never realised. James has been dead more years than we knew him." Sirius leaned back against the couch, staring darkly at the empty fireplace. "How could I not have realised that?"

"What made you think of that?" Remus asked quietly. He did not like to indulge Sirius when he was being maudlin.

"Just thinking of how everything's gone wrong. Of how Raven's going to make it worse."

At this, Remus downed a gulp of the hard spirit. It was clear Sirius was already under the spell of the green fairy, as he kept babbling without his encouragement.

"She can't be mine." He seemed to be pleading. "I can't take any more of this. I want what James had with Lily, not some bastard demon with another daddy waiting to come out an kill us all."

With a subtle flick of his wand and a non-verbal spell, Remus vanished the bottle to the kitchen. The drinks they held in their hands would be their last for today. He looked at his friend, who was still going on and would for a while, and for the first time wished Raven was his. Not because he wanted her. But because Sirius couldn't handle it. Because Harry couldn't - _shouldn't have to _- handle it if Raven was James' biggest mistake. Because he would never, ever, wish Peter Pettigrew on anyone. Especially not a sixteen year old girl, demonic or not.

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Because Malfoy was rather pathetic and unable to retaliate in a more devastating way, he initiated a fresh campaign of bullying against Raven and the others as soon as he returned from the hospital wing (to fix what was rumoured to be a broken nose from playing Quiddich).

He was like a sulky kid that had gotten a telling off from his parents for being naughty and now wanted to vent on the other children. He was impotent, wary of Dumbledore and possible punishment for his actions, and unwilling to face Raven alone. Yet no matter how sad his motives, she had to admit he knew how to stir up a crowd. The school yard bullying she'd endured earlier on was suddenly doubled. She couldn't walk down a hallway without someone shooting a trip curse at her, and the worst part was she had no way to defend herself. It wasn't like she could go around punching _every _Slytherin student, and though she knew the counter-curse and found it on the tip of her tongue every time, her wand was still horribly uncooperative. It felt terrible to come across a group of slytherin students and be unable to do anything but return their insults while Malfoy smirked like she hadn't beat the shit out of him days before.

The only thing that made school bearable was that, after the effective way she'd decommissioned Malfoy, Harry and Ron were suddenly very enthusiastic friends. Apparently there were some things, like kneeing Draco Malfoy in the groin, that made Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley your biggest fans. Hermione laughed the first time Ron offered her to a game of chess and said it had been exactly the same with her. They hadn't liked her at all when they'd first met, but after an encounter with a Mountain troll, _voila. _

The fact they were all equally attacked made the insults a lot easier to weather without resorting to hex's, or in Ravens case, physical violence and demonic powers. While Harry had to deal with the entire school calling him a lying attention seeker, Ron endured being called a poor blood-traitor, Hermione handled the catcalls of Mudblood with grace, and Raven let the accusations of being a squib bounce off of her. They walked in a pack, and while Raven wasn't exactly spilling her guts to the Trio, it felt nice to have someone other than Hermione able to look past her icy exterior.

"Is everyone like that?" Raven asked suddenly, one day at the Library. "I mean, in the wider Wizarding world?" Hermione didn't need to ask what she meant. She heard the mutterings just as clearly.

"Sadly yes, but it's the same in the muggle world, you know? It's just a bigger version of high school. Some people will judge you by blood and some don't care" she sighed. "But magic isn't everything."

"Oh?" Raven asked. She found that hard to believe.

"Well, I'm doing pretty well in classes, at least compared to some of the half-wits around here, and the Slytherins still can't walk past me without pointing out I'm a muggleborn." she smiled weakly.

"You were raised by muggles? I wouldn't have guessed."

Raven was terrible at small talk, and it showed. Still, Hermione didn't seem to mind. Everything Raven said was genuine, whether it be criticism or compliment, and she liked how simple that made everything. It was nothing like talking to Parvati and Lavender, with whom every conversation hid an ulterior motive or social game.

"Dentists." Hermione said wryly. "So don't worry about being behind. The Salem Witches institute must have had a different curriculum, that's all. We'll have you up to speed in no time, and then Pansy Parkinson can find something else about you to pick on." Hermione returned to her book. There was something about the way she mentioned her cover school that had Raven thinking it was time to come clean before Hermione became too suspicious and figured it out herself.

_Now or never. _Raven thought. She had the choice to either nod and fall quiet, or admit her past. Open herself up a little bit to these people she was forming tentative friendship with. Like Dumbledore had wanted her to.

"I have a confession. I didn't go to the Salem Witches Institute."

Hermione looked up and smiled, almost triumphantly.

"I guessed as much. I mean, you can't have had a quality education if no ones tried to help you with this wand problem before. And the way you took down Malfoy the other day didn't look like something you'd learn at Salem's." she leaned forward eagerly, lowering her voice. In the Library anything louder than a murmur seemed to carry.

"I didn't go to a Wizarding school at all. In fact, I haven't attended any type of school since I was about twelve. I learnt to control my natural powers when I was a child." Raven explained, expecting to feel sick for revealing so much and instead feeling freed.

"Am I to assume you spent the time you should have been studying wand magic learning karate?" Hermione asked in amusement.

"Ah, I'll explain that another time..." She trailed off uncomfortably. She wasn't ready to mention the part about being a Super Hero just yet. _Baby steps. _"But I've spent most of my teenage years living with friends in California. Muggles."

"It must have been difficult for you to adjust." Hermione said slowly.

"No more difficult than it must have been for you to come here at eleven. Though I do... miss my friends."

"Well, I mean... you have Harry and me. Ron too, I think."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Er, I mean, its nice to have someone to go to the Library with."

"Harry and Ron don't like reading books in their spare time?" she asked dryly.

"No, they prefer Quiddich." She smiled. "It's.. nice to have a girl to talk to who isn't..."

"Lavender or Parvati?" Raven suggested quietly.

"Yes. I know we didn't trust you at the start, and that wasn't fair. But you can talk to me about anything. You don't have to be so..."

"Emotionless?"

"Yes." Hermione said, relieved Raven had come up with the word herself. .

"Look at that, I'm already finishing your sentences." The demoness smiled wryly. "It's not anything personal if I still look expressionless around you. My powers were controlled by my emotions, at least before I defeated Trigon. Feeling anything was risky, even being happy could cause destruction. So I learned to not feel much, and I guess I still haven't gotten used to being free from that yet."

It was the most Raven had ever shared with Hermione. Something in her admission caught Hermione's attention, so when they went back to reading, her mind was still ticking and she couldn't concentrate on her homework. Raven had trust issues, and her powers could cause destruction, so she was used to ultimate control. _Hmmmn._

* * *

**I very much enjoyed writing that small fight scene, I can picture fifteen year-old Draco resorting to hair pulling far too easily. Sorry for messy alcoholic Sirius, I hope I made up for that depressing picture with Raven and the Golden trio finally becoming real friends. **


	13. A match made in Hell

**I own naught. **

**I realise that in the first DA meeting they actually learn disarming, but for reasons that will be obvious soon enough, I switched that to stunning. Raven's meeting with Dumbledore will at first seem confusing and glossed over, but read on to the end and all will be explained. The last part has a lot of dialogue and "concepts", and I was scared to leave it like that in case it was confusing. However, I did read a writing tip along the lines of "Don't underestimate your readers" and decided there's really no other way to explain it. That said, please message me or leave a signed review I can reply to if you need anything clarified! Pretty please, in fact. With nuts, a cherry, and star-shaped sprinkles on top. **

* * *

_Sunday 8th October, 8:47 PM,_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor Common Room. _

Raven checked her watch - it was a new purchase from the little second-hand store in Hogsmeade, a well done present for smashing Draco Malfoy and not getting kidnapped to herself - and saw it was nearing eight o'clock. The Castle being so huge, it wasn't guaranteed you would be in view of a clock when you needed one, so at least the gift was practical. Raven was so used to the structure of the tower, in which Robin's demanding yells or the shrieks of a siren told her when and what she had to do, and without them she found herself showing up to things a little late.

It was a handsome thing, with a black leather strap and brass face that looked brand new despite its forging date of forty years prior, and it could do more than simply tell the time. Set an alarm and at the chosen time either the radio, or a pulsing wail, would alert you. Turning the dial on the side would cause the hands and visible cogs to mutate and bend until they resembled the current phase of the moon, a miniture map of the world with a mark over her geographical location or a miniature sneak-o-scope. She mused that these features should be added to the T-com, and hoped she would remember to mention it to Cyborg when she finally got home. If they found a way to mix magic and technology, she'd bet they'd find it easier to put criminals in jail and finally make them _stay _there.

_Home. _Raven cringed inwardly, though anyone watching her would have said she was day-dreaming peacefully as she stared into the fire. Her team would be worried about her. Robin would be fuming, furious that she'd betrayed his trust so. She had passed the deadline of a month, and even that amount of time had been generous. It was unheard of for a full time Titan to get more than a weekend off due to stress and/or exhaustion. Even bereavement was only three weeks paid leave, and no one had ever taken the opportunity to use it, considering most superheroes had no family available to die. She had wondered more than once what had caused Robin to be so generous, and was each time filled with tremendous guilt for taking advantage of him, whatever his reasons. She knew that if she just wrote and told him she was here trying to help destroy an evil dictator, Wizarding or not, he'd understand and make it her official mission. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do that. Telling him would mean explaining how she got here, and to explain that would be to make herself vulnerable.

"I've been thinking." Hermione said seriously, pulling Raven's thoughts back to the present.

"That's unusual." Ron snorted, though his eyes were still glued to the game of chess that sat positioned between him and Harry on the floor. Hermione ignored him.

"About your wand trouble." She added. Raven looked around, searching for a sign that anyone in the common room was listening. She knew her issues weren't exactly a secret, but that didn't mean she wanted the whole of Gryffindor (and all their friends in other houses) knowing her business. When she was sure the Weasley twins were deep in conversation rather than simply feigning it, she nodded for Hermione to continue. Something excitable in her stirred. She knew Hermione had been deep in thought over something the last day or two, and it seemed she was about to find out what that was.

"After all you told me about how your powers work, I was wondering... what if because you're so used to using your own body for magic, you've got some kind of... block up against your wand?"

"You think I'm suppressing your type of magic intentionally?" Raven asked doubtfully, only now realising she had sat up in anticipation, and settling back into her chair.

"Well, no. Not_ intentionally_. I'm thinking you're doing it subconsciously. From the way you described it, your type of magic doesn't need a conductor. That's what a wand is for Wizards and Witches, a way to focus magic for us, because we can't do it ourselves. Don't take this the wrong way," Hermione warned in a low voice. "Because it's not an insult. You've got trust issues. I don't know why, and I'm not saying that's unreasonable or that you've got some weird thing against wands-" she checked to make sure Raven wasn't glaring, and ploughed on with a slight tremble to her voice when she saw Raven appeared unmoved. "but it sounds likely to me that you simply don't trust your wand to do what your body's been doing for you your entire life."

"Check mate!" Ron said smugly, as his queen cackled. Harry scowled -the two weren't paying any attention to the girls' conversation whatsoever.

"It just sounds so... unlikely." Raven replied darkly.

"Just think about it. Anyway, you had better get going. You're meant to be meeting Dumbledore in two minutes."

"I will. And don't worry, I'll teleport from upstairs." Raven said dismissively.

"Any idea what he wants this time?" Harry asked curiously. Raven knew from other conversation's that Harry was frustrated with Dumbledore's refusal to speak with him. Apparently he and the Headmaster used to spend a lot of time together. She shrugged.

"Sometimes he asks me questions about Trigon, sometimes he asks me about the dream we both had. I never feel like we get much out of our discussions, but he always acts as if it's useful."

She stood and left her friends, mentally preparing herself for another round of mind games with the Headmaster. Between them it was a constant struggle of power. Raven had all the knowledge he wanted, but the only problem was she didn't know which parts were valuable. Dumbledore knew more about Voldemort than she ever would, so she never knew which detail of her dream or information about Trigon was good enough to perhaps bargain for an early casting of the Paternos charm with, and which he would dismiss as useless. The whole thing was infuriating.

* * *

_Monday 9th October, 7:05 PM,_

_Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Room of Requirement._

For once, her meeting with Dumbledore had actually yielded positive results. A discovery of sorts, and though it didn't really help them (or at least, her) to come up with a plan for Voldemort and Trigon's imminent defeat, it did give her a feeling they were moving forward. It had also relieved some of her guilt about not trapping Trigon properly. She could have kicked herself for not fully reading through _Demon Lore_ earlier, but supposed she'd been rather busy keeping up with class and researching Voldemort. She would have loved to have read it now, but Dumbledore had insisted on keeping the book to help explain to the order what they had uncovered, and she hadn't been able to think of a way to refuse that didn't sound like she was trying to hide something. One of the (hundreds of) cons that came with being a half-demon was that everything you said sounded suspicious. Even when you simply didn't like people touching your things.

Luckily, Raven still had a lot to keep her busy. Umbridge's new rules against student organisation meant the Defence group Harry had been planning was almost ruined, and as his new friend it had been her duty to help come up with a secret meeting place. Of course not knowing anything more about the grounds than a first year made her pretty useless at that, but it was the thought that counted. Finally he figured out the Room of Requirement would be an excellent meeting place, and tonight Dumbledore's Army had their first official meeting. Raven had rolled her eyes so hard they hurt when Ginny Weasley suggested the name, but didn't feel it was appropriate to speak up about her low opinions of Dumbledore in front of this group, who clearly held him in high regard. The demoness didn't even like to mention her views in front of Hermione, who seemed to respect Dumbledore's every word and take it as law. _None of them are being blackmailed by him and his merry band of adult Wizards though, are they? _She often found herself thinking.

Harry's first idea had been to teach them Stunners, which had met resistance from some of the older, more obnoxious members. Apparently they were too juvenile for some. Hapilly, the hecklers had been silenced, and Raven had been impressed to see Harry take on the role of leader with ease. She hadn't had the chance to have many private conversations with the Boy Who Lived, not even now they considered themselves friends, or at least allies. Yet she found herself drawn to him in a strange way. Maybe it was that he reminded her of her own leader so forcefully now he stood up in front of the group and explained the theory and uses of _stupefy!_ so confidently. Or maybe it was that he was the lingering possibility he was her brother, or just that his story and hardships made her empathise, especially since almost everyone was so against him. For whatever reason, Raven found herself brandishing her wand with the others instead of sitting in the corner with a book as she had originally planned, in part hoping she would get a chance to speak with him alone and in part to test Hermione's theory more.

"Stupefy!" She growled at her opponent. Neville flinched.

"Nice job." Harry grinned, genuinely pleased. She sighed as Neville looked down, embarrassed.

"As much as I want to say that was the ghost of a spell passing over him, I think he was just startled." She pointed out. Harry winced.

"Ah. Well... keep trying." He said bracingly, before heading over to instruct Cho.

"Maybe it's time you learned to give up." Announced a sickly sweet voice on her right. She turned to see Lavender and Parvati paired up, wands held loosely at their sides instead of at the ready. Raven had no idea why they were here, considering their recent anti-Potter stances, and made a mental note to ask him later.

"I'm sorry, did I look like I wanted to talk to you?" She asked with narrowed eyes. "In case I did, let me assure you I don't."

"It's just that, while it's a bit admirable that you keep trying like this." Parvati said pointedly. "It's also really pathetic."

"And it's making everyone depressed." Lavender added with fake concern.

"I thought depressed people were supposed to be quiet." Raven noted calmly, despite her temper rising. She was good at controlling her emotions, but all the negative comments thrown her way while she was doing her best to connect with her wand and finally make some magic happen was wearing at her. While at first Hermione's theory had sounded far-fetched, after a night thinking it over she hadn't been so sure. Everything in her lessons were just so... intangible. Most subjects, barring things like Potions which required strict rules and measurements, were based off feelings and movement. Especially when it came to Divination, Raven felt that magic was as fluid as water and just as difficult to catch ahold of. Wouldn't it therefore make sense that the reason she couldn't get the hang of it was because she couldn't trust her wand? Perhaps you needed a certain amount of naivety to use magic as easily as the other students. They'd all started as wide-eyed first years, whereas she was a hardened, paranoid vigilante who could count her real friends and family on one hand. Perhaps wands, like animals, could sense when you didn't feel right around them.

When she remembered the way her wand had hummed when it had chosen her in Olivander's, she realised that that had been the last time she had thought of the wand as something _good. _As soon as she had been told what it's Thestral core had meant, she'd resented it for being another connection between herself and death, evil, and bad luck. It hadn't felt right in her hand since. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Hermione was correct in her theory. Raven resolved to keep that in mind every time she tried magic.

The problem was, letting down her guards and trusting this little death stick was harder said than done. Raven hadn't even been aware she didn't trust it in the first place. After all, it was only a vessel to focus energy through, one that she didn't need to do what came naturally. She could focus magic, though maybe not the right kind, through her own body and wasn't sure any simple object could do quite as good a job. Still, it was worth a try. With a sigh she held her wand as comfortably as she could, and tried to ignore the pair of girls making snide remarks, imagining the wand as a living, breathing entity she could trust her life with. After all, it would be pretty hypocritical of_ her_ to mistrust something because of what it was made of - so what if the wand's core was a symbol of death? _She _was a goddamn symbol of death! _They should be a match made in hell! _she thought wryly.

"Uh... maybe let Neville try it again." Harry suggested, after making another round. He'd been watching her and Neville out of the corner of his eye the entire time, even when he'd been trying to have a conversation with Cho. These days all his interactions with her had been rather one-sided anyway: Thanks to Malfoy's fresh bullying campaign, Harry couldn't pass by Cho without some Slytherin muttering about how, my, didn't she move on quickly? The mentions of Cedric usually sent her running to the bathroom with tears streaming down her face, so even in a safe place like the DA meeting, Cho was still weary of him.

"Alright." Raven said passively, lowering her hand to her side with a slick movement akin to the way the hero holsters his gun in an action movie. For the last fifteen minutes that Harry had been watching, he'd seen her perform the wand movements and sharply call out the spell and no jets of red light eventuate. It seemed all she'd accomplished was terrifying Neville, who looked a nervous wreck now that he'd spent the evening faced with an emotionless Raven, whose cold, steady voice seemed ready to finally deliver the most powerful stunning spell on earth each and every time she tried, even though that spell never came. Luckily for Raven, he was just as bad as she was. She didn't think she could take it if she'd ended up being knocked out each time, with no way to defend herself that wouldn't send the other students running and screaming away from the Room of  
Requirement. Still, she wanted to try again. She thought she'd felt something, that last time, when she'd thought about her wand being perfect for her in a morbid sort of way.

"Hey, Harry, look! I got Hermione!"

"You did not Ronald, I tripped." she replied acidly.

"You stayed on the ground waaay to long to use falling as an excuse."

"I was retying my shoe you idiot!"

Harry's attention turned to their argument, and Lavander took a step closer to Raven and Neville.

"You know what would be cute?" She said, in that smirky voice Raven had come to associate with girls being mean. Neville looked away. "If you two squibs got together."

A nerve twitched in Raven's forehead, and to her surprise she found her hand curling into a fist around the shaft of her wand. She wanted so badly to whisper her mantra and have Lavander and Parvati suspended from the ceiling by their ankles, engulfed in familiar blue-black energy. Yet, over a month of conditioning not to use her natural powers seemed to have finally gotten to her. Instead, she found useless spells springing to her mind. Curses that would make the smirking blonde's hair fall out, that would turn her skin green. She ached to feel that same connection with her wand others felt, so that she could carry out some of the violent and satisfying fantasies playing in her minds eye.

"Who would you say is more muggle, Lav?" Parvati asked conversationally. When she had first met them, Raven hadn't considered the two girls would become as pointlessly nasty as the Slytherins, but she supposed her outburst the other day must have humiliated them just enough to turn them into typical female bullies, attacking with words and leaving only psychological marks.

"I would say Raven, but then if you consider that Longbottom's had years and years of trying to become a Wizard and she's only had a month, I guess he wins."

Neville didn't say anything, and continued to look down at his feet. Because of her incompetence, Raven had often been seated with him in lessons, and she found his kindness endearing. Though he was much better at magic than her, he struggled to keep up with his classmates in a way that made her empathise. While she was unsure how he got sorted into Gryffindor if this was how he behaved in front of a few mouthy bitches, the insult stung her almost as much as she felt it sting him, when she reached out her powers of empathy. Lavender opened her mouth to carry on, and something surged in Raven, hot and demanding. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd raised her wand to point at Lavender, and _Stupefy _was calmly slipping from her mouth. A thrill shot through to her as she felt her wand hum, and she realised she fully expected it to work this time.

For a moment Lavender's face began to fall into an expression of triumphant glee as nothing happened. Then, as if her wand made the split-second decision to finally co-operate, the desired red jet shot from the tip and hit Lavender square in the chest. She stumbled back and fell, unconscious, missing the cushions set out by a happy few inches. There was silence, and then Ron whooped and Hermione grinned, a more pleasant look of triumph taking over her face. Neville clapped.

"There we go!" Harry enthused, taking in Lavender's motionless form. "That's er, not your partner, but good job"

No one but Parvati, whose face had taken on a red tinge, noticed the verbal disagreement that had been going on. Raven's expression was the same cold mask as always when the other members of the DA she rarely talked to and who had on occasion taken a small part in the bullying she'd received came up to congratulate her. But inside, she was felt the glow of happiness and silently thanked Hermione for her theory. It had only taken a little trust to figure out and solve her problem, and she remembered Dumbledore's words about how putting down her walls could help her. The power of friendship, indeed.

* * *

_Monday 9th October, 7:55 PM,_

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place, The Kitchen._

The meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had not yet started, but already there was an unusual hush over the room. This certain group of Witches and Wizards were, more often than not, quite chatty whenever they got together. Though ever since Raven had appeared in their Headquarters their gatherings were tense. Small talk was strained in contrast to the easy flow it had weeks before. The atmosphere was thick and uncomfortable.

The lines Azkaban had given Sirius Black seemed deeper, furrows becoming crevices. Remus Lupin had more grey hairs, a sprinkling becoming thicker and more pronounced. Nymphadora Tonks was missing her pink, spiky crop of hair, sporting a mousy bob the same colour as the threatening clouds outside instead. While their rougher appearances were down to stress from Raven's mere existence and the constant state of anxiety that came with it, the others were looking worse for wear as well. Their tired expressions and less careful states of dress were thanks to hectic schedules. Dumbledore had doubled their duties in an attempt to thwart Voldemort's attempt at freeing the demon Trigon, and the efforts showed on each and every Order member.

"I have news." The Headmaster announced, entering the room without a greeting to any of the group's members. No one seemed to notice, or mind. Their eyes were all on him. They needed news. They needed a discovery that would make everything alright. Though suspicious disappearances and deaths were down, it had only served to scare them further. They knew Voldemort and his Death Eaters were out there - there had been signs of course- and the lull in activity only meant they were planning something far worse than a few murders. "Our spy has discovered the way in which Voldemort has contacted Trigon. With a little information from Miss Roth, it is all starting to make sense." He swept into his chair.

There was a lot of flinching around the table at his words. While a handful didn't move a muscle and the majority had the usual reaction to the Dark Lord's name, both Remus and Sirius were twitching at the name "Miss Roth"_. _In their more maudlin, drunken moments (which had become more frequent of late, often commencing around noon ) they referred to the sixteen year-old girl as _she-who-must-not-be-named. _It said something, perhaps, that they were more afraid of the half-demoness than they were of meeting, and dying at the hands of, Lord Voldemort.

"Our spy has confirmed that the mirror both Harry and Raven saw in their dreams, is the object Voldemort is using to contact Trigon. After asking Raven about demons and mirrors in our meeting last night, she thought for a moment and ran to get the book she had been carrying when she arrived here."

"_Demon Lore_?" Mad-eye Moody asked gruffly. He remembered every item they'd found on the girl that night she appeared at Headquarters, right down to the odd-looking device she'd sarcasticly said was a paper weight. He'd keep remembering until the day he decided to trust her, if that day ever did come. Dumbledore nodded.

"Apparently, the very same book she discovered the possibility of two fathers in." He added. Both Marauders cringed as if Albus had raised a hand to strike them. Tonks bit her lip, engulfed in her own silent pain at seeing Remus so withdrawn and tortured. Things had been going so well for the two of them, until he had gone to see Dumbledore and Raven had turned up half way through. Something had changed in him then. He'd stopped seeking out the company of anyone but Sirius. While that itself would have hurt Tonks, Remus hadn't stopped at just that. He was avoiding her specificly. Even now they sat at opposite ends of the table, as if they knew and liked each other about as much as Molly and Mundungus. His short explanation, that while he'd been willing to accept she could handle the company of an old, poor Werewolf, he couldn't accept the thought of her having to handle the company of an unstable demon child too, had left Tonks bitter and hurting.

"She told me she was in possession of a similar mirror herself, an aid for meditation she'd had since birth-"

"Meditation?" Molly asked doubtfully.

"I haven't pressed the subject, but it seems very important to her. I feel it helps her control her powers." he said gravely. "She checked the book, which she admitted to me she had not read fully through, and it turns out the forging of unique mirrors for demons is not an unusual practice." He extracted a small book from the voluminous pockets of his robes, cleared his throat, and began to read a passage marked by the book's faded and frayed gold ribbon.

"_In ancient times it was traditional for those of demonic heritage to have a mirror forged upon birth to allow contact with the mind. These mirrors were generally used as ways to contact relatives, minions or partners when away. The mirror would be left with whomever the demon wished to contact, and thus a gateway between the mirror and the demon's mind would be created."_ He finished reading and put the book away, while the Order members tried to process the information.

A murmur went through the group and Sirius shifted uncomfortably.

"So Voldemort is talking to Trigon through his mind-mirror?" Remus asked.

"Isn't it a bit... dangerous for a demon to have a link to his mind lying around?" Sirius asked.

"It is possible the Cult Leader both she and Harry mentioned in their dreams had it, and gave it to Voldemort. From their descriptions it seems as if Voldemort had trouble accessing it until he worked himself into a murderous fury. This is just the theory of an old man, but I feel inhuman evil the likes of which only Voldemort processes was needed to awaken Trigon's mirror."

"But how does this help us stop him?" Kingsley asked.

"It doesn't." Dumbledore said calmly. "Though knowledge is power. I asked Raven if it were possible to destroy the mirrors, and she wasn't sure. She told me they are extremely durable, for her powers were controlled by her emotions previous to imprisoning her father. Any spark of feeling would cause objects around her to explode, and the mirror was one of a kind. She wondered if the destruction of a demon's mirror would harm their mind in any way."

"But_ if_ we find out a way to destroy it, there's no way Voldemort can talk to the demon again." Sirius clarified.

"Correct. Unless he finds a way to free Trigon from his prison without communicating, which I imagine would be a risky plan for Voldemort to enact. Perhaps not worth the risk at all."

"But what if there are more mirrors?" Molly frowned.

"The book indicates later on in the chapter that demons stopped forging mirrors because a way was found to use them for good. Instead of being used much like a muggle telephone, for communication, pacifists created a technique that combined the mirror and meditation to suppress demonic urges. As Raven told me her mirror was an aid to meditation before she admitted to me that it was a direct link to her own mind, I assume the book is correct. Trigon would not have wanted the mirror to exist, in case it could be used for the same benevolent purposes as Raven is using hers, so I think we can safety assume there is only the one."

"I'm still not sure we can trust this information Albus. All of it comes from the girl, and I don't trust her." Mad-eye growled.

"I don't believe she knew about the tradition of forging mirrors Alastor." Albus replied, a little tiredly. "In fact, she seemed rather taken aback. Relieved of course, that the magic she used to trap her father was not flawed. She was of the impression it was her fault that Voldemort could contact him. That there was a chink in the armour, as muggles say."

"How could she think hers was the only mirror?" Mcgonigall asked sharply. "It seems doubtful to me that she wouldn't be aware of such a tradition."

"I do not know much of her upbringing, as she is very reluctant to tell me of it. Therefore, it is very hard to understand the way her knowledge of the world is spread. For instance, she is perfectly capable of keeping up with her theory school work despite claiming never to have attended any school of any kind. Just this Saturday she appeared in my office to inform me that Mister Malfoy had attempted to kidnap her and she had disposed of him accordingly, while swearing up and down she hadn't shown him any of her unusual powers. Later that evening he limped into the hospital wing and demanded Poppy fix his broken nose and extensive facial bruising. When I asked her about this, she told me she'd rather not talk about it." He paused as the others raised their eyebrows in surprise. "She says she was never cared for by her mother. If Angela Roth was not around to teach her about demonic traditions, who was? The point is, Raven Roth knows lots of things we don't expect her to, and is ignorant of a few we do. I for one, think she is genuine. " The Headmaster shrugged.

"Wait... she broke Draco's nose?" Sirius asked. If it had been Harry that had done it, he knew he would have been filled with glee at the thought. Since it was Raven... he had no idea how he felt. But what else was new? When it came to the possible daughter, neither Sirius nor Remus had any idea how to feel.

"Poppy says the injuries were consistent with good hard Head-butt. She's had a lot of experience fixing injuries of the sort over the years, especially when it comes around to Quiddich finals time."

Lupin sighed. Another odd fact to add to the list of things he knew about the girl. Another outlier, that didn't fit in with the other facts at all. There was no pattern to the girl. Dumbledore glanced at the quick-quotes quill, which rather than scribbling dramatic and false lies like Rita Skeeter's, was taking down minutes for the meeting.

"Anything else to discuss?"

* * *

**How do you guys like the speed of the story? There will be a bit of twisted romance coming up, and the Titan's a bit later on!**


	14. Letters

**I don't own anything, thank you guys so much for your reviews anyway :)**

* * *

Raven awoke in the middle of the night with a desert-dry mouth and a feeling of inexplicable terror. Trapped in a cocoon of sheets plastered to her by her own cold sweat, she managed to bolt into sitting position and fight back the urge to scream. For a long, torturous moment she didn't understand why she felt such overwhelming fear, and fumbled wildly in the dark like an animal, reacting to an unknown threat. But gradually, with each calming breath she forced herself to take, the memory of the nightmare that had woken her returned, and she understood there was nothing immediate to be afraid of.

_It was just a dream_, the budding Witch chastised inwardly, still slightly bewildered as she untangled herself. Even out of her sheets, she felt too hot. Her Pyjamas (a Christmas gift from Starfire) were usually too thin for comfort on a night as chilly as tonight, yet she was burning up. The Dormitory seemed smaller than usual, the beds and side-tables stacked with make-up and texts books clustered around her. She winced at the creaking of the floorboards when she put her foot on the ground, and listened for the breathing of the other girls. The last thing she needed was to wake any of them up, not exactly fancying having Lavender tell the whole school she had nightmares. She needed to get out of there before she made too much noise, and find something to focus on until her nerves settled down. The vestiges of her panic still had her blood racing, so she bent over to grab her cloak and, knowing the doors of the Great Hall would be locked and that the teachers would be patrolling the corridors, teleported out onto the grounds near Hagrid's hut. Drawing her cloak around her to protect from the cold, she took a few more deep meditation breathes and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness until she remembered the wand in her pocket and cast _Lumos._

Her watch told her it was nearing dawn, but it could have been midnight for all the light tgere. Cold seemed to seep from the concrete path into the very bones of her bare feet, and the dew-covered lawn wasn't much better when she hoped over to it. There was a restful stillness to the air, and she welcomed everything the outdoors had to offer her. The chill rooted her to the earth, fought her fever, and focused her mind. A lump against her leg reminded her of the parchment and Quill she always carried in her pocket and, in an effort to stave off thoughts of the nightmare until she'd woken up and calmed down sufficiently enough to understand it, she headed to the almost-deserted Owlery. Now, of all times, she was finally going to contact her team. At least this time she wouldn't have any distractions or excuses to leave it till later. Not unless there was anyone but her stalking the Castle grounds at this time, to command her immediate attention. The thought scared her almost as much as the dream, so she got going.

_Dear Robin, _she wrote, laying the parchment out on the stone sill of the glass-less Owlery window, and then; _Dear Team. _Then, erasing the words with a simple spell she'd seen Hermione cast over Ron's scribbled essays perhaps a hundred times already, she left the top corner of the parchment blank and got down to business. Now, when she was feeling vulnerable and confused, at every turn of a sentence her hand threatened to betray her and spill her secrets onto the page for her friends to read. She forced herself to make the censored version of her thoughts vague (and omit any mention of the disturbing dream that had awoken her), and by the time she finished and re-read it, thought it hardly sounded like her at all. If she sent this off, she'd be lucky if Robin didn't assume the letter was from an imposter and come after her. At the very least, he'd send the owl back a few hundred grams heavier courtesy of a new tracker and a letter demanding she return home. Utilising the erasing charm again with a sigh, she re-wrote the letter.

_It's Raven. I'm safe. Do __not__ worry. I won't tell you where I am, but I will tell you I'm not in North America. I'm keeping busy, but I'm fine. Eating three meals a day and sleeping in a comfy bed, and all that. There's a lot more to it than that, but I wont explain here. When I get home, I might tell you all about it. Lets just say I'm sorting things that needed sorting ever since my sixteenth birthday. I know Robin gave me a month, but I don't feel that will be enough time. I am not asking permission._

_P.S. The Owl is smart. Smarter than Beastboy, I imagine. It knows where I am if you want to send me a four page reply detailing how furious you all are. Still - Thank you for seeing something was wrong, Robin. I should have seen it myself, especially when I became a liability to the team. _

She almost wrote _With love, Raven _but couldn't handle seeing the words written down. The fact that she loved each and every one of her team mates more than anything she'd ever loved before would remain unspoken forever, if she had her way. So she left the bottom blank, just as she had left the top. Before she could stop herself this time, she seized one of the few remaining owls and tied the letter around it's outstretched leg. She didn't want to dwell on the letter's complete failure to address the situation the way she wanted, with an apologetic, but firm tone. Such things could only be conveyed through speech, and even if she wanted to talk to her friends (which she most definitely did not) her Communicator didn't work at Hogwarts. Hermione had said it was something to do with magical energy fields scrambling Muggle technology. The owl took flight, and she watched it disappear into the shadows of the Forbidden forest.

"_Nox._" She muttered, extinguishing her wand tip. She didn't want to go back up, not just yet. There were too many thoughts running around her head, even now she had finally reached out to make contact with the Titans. She knew she wouldn't sleep until she came to terms with her dream, which she knew she wouldn't be able to do in the claustrophobic dormitory filled with snoring girls. In the distance, she could see a glow of light emitting from Hagrid's hut. He must have been getting up to carry out his gamekeeper duties, and she considered joining him before deciding she had to be alone. Out here- in the dark, where the air was pungent with the earthy smell of forest and owl droppings, and there was no man-made sound to be heard- was the only place she felt free to think. The young Demoness hung her head out of the Owlery window and let the cool air wash over her face, bringing with it a sharpness to the mind that was unusual for her at this time of the morning.

Her dream hadn't been particularly scary. It certainly hadn't been as bad as the one she and Harry had experienced, and had the added bonus of being a creation of her mind rather than a vision of far-away reality. In it, she'd been sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place with Sirius, Remus, and a tall shadowy figure everyone referred to as Wormtail. There'd been an empty chair in the corner, which she'd known, in the way only one in a dream can know, was for James Potter.

They'd been talking but she couldn't remember what about. What she could remember was the way they'd all been smiling, delighted, at her. Even the aura of Wormtail's outline was warm and positive. It was infectious, and before long she'd been smiling too, and laughing with them, and in the dream she'd been happier than she'd ever been in her life. It was one of those dreams where you didn't know you were dreaming, and of course she'd forgotten most of the details, but she remembered "thinking" that it was the best feeling in the world.

Then things had taken a turn for the worse. Sirius had begun to change - his eyes turned red and horns grew from his hair. Like a tree growing in fast forward, he'd shot upwards until he towered over them all, and when she looked up into his face she saw Trigon grinning back. Remus had jumped up to push him back, but with a laugh Trigon/Sirius turned him to stone, and Raven had watched in horror as Remus crumbled into rubble. The shadowy Wormtail watched from the sidelines a moment more, then left without a word, leaving her with a sense of loss to mingle in with the terror. James' chair sat stationary, and just as empty as always.

At that point, Raven had woken up with every remaining emotion from the dream lingering, as real as if her nightmare had been reality and only a moment before she'd been at Headquarters. It was the potency of the emotions that shocked her, constricted her chest and made it hard to breath. Now, once she had calmed down, it was easy to discard those intense feelings and see the meaning, the symbolism, behind the dream. It had embodied all her fears about her possible father: That he might betray her, and be just as bad as Trigon. That he might get hurt or killed for his connection to her. That he might not care at all and leave, or that she might have missed out all together. That, whoever her father was, she might leave the UK worse off than when she had entered it, full of choking hope and confusion.

That dream had disturbed her. Worse than it should have. She was supposed to be strong in the face of real threats, not cowering at imaginary ones. So why did she feel this way? Raven had no idea, but she was going to put a stop to it as soon as possible. Whatever happened when Dumbledore finally allowed them to cast the Paternos Charm, she would deal with it as she always dealt with difficult situations. And if she had her way, she wouldn't even have to wait till then to start dealing with it. To be forewarned was to be forearmed, and she knew it was time to start collecting samples for DNA testing. It struck her, now that she had bit the bullet and contacted her friends, that her reluctance to speak with them had held her back from the option of DNA testing too. She half hadn't seen the point in collecting DNA samples, since she couldn't send them off to her friends.

There were so many ways to get a hold of Harry's DNA, but the easiest was surely through close contact. She could hug him, she supposed. That wouldn't seem too odd. People hugged each other all the time. From there it would be a quick and painless tweak of a hair, and another short begging letter to Robin before she figured out if James Potter was her father. There was the moral dilema of betraying one of her newest friends, but she supposed it wasn't in the same league as what Terra and Malchior had done to her. It was hardly a betrayal at all, given the circumstances. It was simply a way to get the test done, without the side effect of having Harry both dread and hope for the arrival of the results the way she would. On this lonely, frigid morning it was easy for Raven to convince herself she was right, and her plan was do-able.

A hug wasn't too demanding. She had hugged people before. Robin, after Slade came to deliver the messages from her father on that rooftop. Starfire, probably a hundred rib-crushingly painful times. Even Beastboy, after Malchior had betrayed her. Though, she supposed here at Hogwarts things were different. Everyone was so... _British_. While the lack of casual physical affection between classmates (who weren't dating, of course) suited her fine at most times, now she wished it was more common so that when she finally hugged Harry, she wouldn't look so out of place.

Raven cursed her past self for lack of foresight. She should have set a precedent for this kind of behaviour, to draw away suspicion. She should have hugged Hermione after she and her wand finally became allies, for all her help. Made it seem like, for all her standoffishness and sarcasm, she was really affection-starved. Now, thanks to her track-record of keeping her distance, she was going to have to pick her moment to steal the hair very, very carefully. She supposed she could pretend to have trouble with her wand again, and ask Harry for help. After a few days of failure, she could miraculously come right again and then a hug would seem more organic. After seriously thinking it through for a few minutes, she came to the decision that that idea was stupid, as she didn't much fancy being the Squib of the school again. It seemed most likely the best opportunity for embracing would be after the next Quiddich game. From what she'd heard around the school, Harry was the best Seeker, or whatever it was called, and Gryffindor should have no trouble winning against Slytherin. It would be her first time at a Quiddich match, and she thought between now and then she could drop hints about her love of sport enough so that if she happened to be overcome by the wonder of the game, losing herself a bit at the end would be convincing. From the way she'd seen Cyborg cry over his favourite Football team and no one bat an eye, stoic people becoming emotional wrecks over sports were considered normal.

She could do it. If she had to. Which she did.

Raven spent the next few hours thinking and watching the sky as the sun came up, half expecting to see the Owl flying back with Robin's no doubt hefty reply weighing it down the entire way. At six am she teleporting back to her Dormitory, behind the heavy scarlett curtain that hid her disappearance from the other girls. Today wouldn't be too hard on her, despite her lack of sleep. Her triumphant entry into wand magic had provided her with the confidence and motivation to catch up to her classmates, and she couldn't wait to see Snape's face when she could light the fire under her own Cauldron in Potion's today.

* * *

_Jump City, The T-Tower, Control Room_

Robin forced himself to take a deep sigh, like _she_ would have done, and rubbed at the ache forming in his temples.

"Try it again." He ground out, closing his eyes so as to miss the looks he knew would be crossing his friend's faces. The expected sighs arose, but thankfully they were accompanied a second later by the rhythmic click of computer keys as Cyborg did as he was told. Hope bubbling in his chest, Robin opened his eyes just in time to see the message he dreaded pop up on screen. _Error: No signal detected. The device is broken or out of range. Try again?_

Another failed attempt, and it was wearing on him. He would have given anything to see the purple dot that signified Raven's position show up on the World map Cyborg had pulled up on screen. Even the fact that the Communicator being out of range was an option irked him. It couldn't be out of range, that was why every Titan had one. Otherwise they might as well carry around Nokia cell phones, God knows they were more durable anyway. Fighting the urge to swear, the leader of the Teen Titans straightened up and tried to force his disappointment and anger down to deal with later. The person he was really annoyed at wasn't here, so it would do not good to go off at the team members that hadn't abandoned the city, their duties, and him.

"I'm sorry man. You know we hate this too." Cyborg offered, closing the computer down. This morning, like every morning since Raven had left to go... somewhere, they'd been trying to get a signal from her. Robin knew it was stupid to keep feeling like it would reconnect any second. She had left them over a month ago, and she was too smart to leave her communicator online if she really didn't want to be found, like her lack of communication suggested. But she had come online a few days ago while they were off fighting Cinderblock, and even though she'd blinked out after an hour he'd been on Cyborg's back about finding a way around whatever made her untraceable ever since.

He murmured something non-committal. Sure, he knew the others were upset about Raven's leave of absence. Beastboy had been abnormally quiet right after she left, worried about what had caused her to go. Cyborg had been furious that Robin had told Raven to take a holiday, adament he should have tried to talk to her about whatever had her so rattled, instead of letting her go alone. He didn't understand Robin's explanation - that Raven had been so bothered by something, she wouldn't have wanted to share it. Cyborg didn't get her like he did, didn't see that she had to work through things on her own. Cyborg's anger had only let up when Raven's holiday was up and she still didn't come home, thinking Robin was punishing himself enough as it was. Even Starfire's bubbly demeanour had been affected. Lately, she'd been too depressed to fly.

Sure, Robin knew the others were hurting. Yet he found it hard to believe they were hurting just as sorely as he was. He couldn't concentrate on work any more. His true passion, finding criminals and arresting them before they could damage his city and it's citizens, was secondary to wondering where Raven was. He couldn't sleep because his mind wouldn't shut up about her. No matter how hard he tried to clear it and indulge his exhaustion in sleep, his thoughts would land back on Raven. They were pulled to her, magnetised, no matter what he was doing. He could be in the middle of a fight, about to make an important break in a case, or even in the shower, and suddenly her face would pop up in his mind's eye and he would find himself going over what leads he had on her location. Leads that were really nothing more than a few guesses, worn into his brain from going over them so often, the way tires ground down wild bush into well travelled paths. He had theories on what caused this fixation with her, the first of which was that he took his job as leader of the Titan's so seriously a missing member weighed heavier on his mind than anything else. Most likely though, was that the bond they shared didn't just disappear because she was far away. Even now, wherever she was hiding and whatever she was doing, he could still feel her in the back of his mind, and it made him angry.

At himself, for letting her go without forcing her to admit her problems like Cyborg thought he should have. At her, for promising to be back, ready to work again in a month, and not sending a word of explanation when she broke her word. It was constant torment, to never forget her for more than a minute, to be constantly worried for her safety and desperate to see her again. Raven would have a lot to answer for when she returned, if she ever did. Robin winced inwardly. He didn't want to think like that. It made it hard to breathe.

"I'm going outside." He said. There was training scheduled for fifteen minutes, but no one reminded him. Such things were unimportant in this emotional climate. He headed for the balcony, but changed his mind half way through and instead climbed the stairs up to the roof. Raven used to meditate up there, and sometimes they shared the space if times were particularly calm. He felt like standing in the spot where she stood would give him some clue as to where she was, and anyway, it was nice to feel the breeze. It cleared his head.

From up here the City looked both tiny, and vast. It was only a small part of the world, a puzzle piece with a thousand more exactly like it, yet there were so many places one could hide. In the cavernous Warehouses, which were privately own by huge companies and couldn't be searched easily. In the seedy slums of Lower Jump, where a multitude of criminals hung out and lived, each with their own secrets. Even in the Central City, where there were hundreds of apartment blocks where the odd was ordinary and she could blend in if she wanted. It was too big an area for them to search, especially if they were looking to the avoid attention they got in spades every time they went out. Especially if Raven was hiding, or hidden. In the dead of night Robin often found himself dwelling on the possibility she'd been kidnapped by one of their enemies on her way out of town. What if she was hurt, and all they were doing was searching her signal when they should have every Honorary Titan out combing the country for her? When he was in a morbid mood, it was easy for him to see her sudden return into Communicator range as an escape attempt that failed.

He was interrupted in his brooding by the sight of something blindingly white in the distance. He squinted against the sunlight until wings came into view and watched, dumbfounded, as an owl with a heart-shaped face and a spotted breast flew straight for him.

"What the hell?" He muttered, as it landed heavily on the safety rail. He'd never seen an owl in California before, let alone in the middle of the city during daylight hours. It glared at him, looking like a feathered devil with it's fluffy horns and black eyes, and he stared back, transfixed, for a moment before it stuck out it's leg and screeched. Trained to expect the unexpected, Robin didn't jump, but he did have the feeling he was in a strange dream when he noticed there was a letter tied above it's clawed foot. Hurrying before the bird could turn feral and attack him, he untied it and unfurled the oddly heavy and coloured paper. His heart jumped when he saw the handwriting and, preying it wasn't a ransom note from her captor, he read on.

When he finished, he was both angrier and happier than he'd been for a long time.

-Happier, because wherever Raven had gone, she went of her own free will. She was safe, perhaps even comfortable, and had finally made the effort to contact them. More than that, she'd thanked him for making the decision he did. At a time when he was doubting himself worse than ever before, to see her words (which were so rarely offered in unnecessary kindness) written out on the page for him to read over and over again was wonderful.

-Angrier, because she'd let them all worry for over a month. Because even now she didn't trust him enough to tell him what she was doing. They shared a unique bond nothing could ever break, yet all she offered was that she _might _tell him what happened when she got home, when whatever she was doing was all over and he could offer neither comfort, advice, or assistance.

"Cyborg!" He roared down the stairs, after nervously telling the Owl to _'Stay, please.'_

"What?" Cyborg's head appeared at the bottom, his expression cautious. As if he were worried Robin was about to throw himself off the ledge.

"I need paper, a pen and the smallest tracking device you can find. Scratch that, a selection of the smallest tracking devices you can find!" Robin replied with a smirk. Cyborg raised the brow over his one good eye, looking as if he now seriously doubted his leader's sanity. Nevertheless, he sighed.

"... fine." He turned to get the aforementioned items, but was startled when the Owl shrieked once more.

"And uh... water and... what do owls eat? Mice if you can find some?"

"I'll get BB." Cyborg said, cheered by friend's sudden lighter mood, even in the face of confusion. He came back up a few minutes later with the pen and paper in one hand, and a small black case in the other. Starfire, having heard the Owl's call and being charmed by animals, came up with the water and started tending to the animal zealously, squeezing the bird within an inch of it's life before Beastboy came up to save it. Robin wrote Raven's reply while Cyborg read her letter aloud.

"I'm guessing these trackers are for the owl?" Cyborg asked, after they'd all expressed their relief. Robin looked up, a manic glint in his face.

"And the back of the letter, and the twine." He corrected, folding his paper up.

"Hey! I wanted to write something to her. Get her back for that jab at my intellect." Beastboy pouted, chest puffed out.

"I wrote that everyone says hi." he replied, and calmly opened the black case, extracting a syringe and injecting it into the Owl's neck before it could rotate it's head all the way around and bite one of his fingers off. "Even if Raven thinks that we've put a tracker on her letter, I doubt she'll think to check the owl. And I don't care how intelligent she says the thing is, I refuse to believe he can extract it himself."

"Smart." Cyborg observed. "All we have to do now is wait."

"In a day or two we should be on a plane to pick her up." Robin agreed. He was determined. She was not going to get rid of them all that easily.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay! My computer was hit by a mega virus which made all these horrible windows pop up constantly and deleted all my icons and hid all my files and generally made me cry. It took me five days to destroy it, and after that I was scared to type to hard for fear of it breaking again. I actually stopped using it for a while after, preferring that to having it break on me again even though both options end up with zero writing getting done. The next Chapter will be up in a week though, this I promise!**


	15. Suspicion among Friends

**I am actually fuming that Harry Potter didn't win an Oscar. Not one, ever. This is utter bullshit. **

* * *

_Raven-_

_While I'm pretty pissed off that you've taken this long to contact us, I'm glad you're okay. We all are- we were so worried. I'm not happy about this, but I hope you know what you're doing. Come back as soon as you can._

_Robin. _

Raven narrowed her eyes at the paper, at the words written in blue ballpoint. That was it? There was no way this was how Robin had really felt when he'd finally received her letter. Where were the demands for her return, punctuated by exclamation marks and threats? Where was the anger she'd been dreading, the guilt-trips she'd been preparing to take? Since when had Robin become reasonable? Re-reading it for the fifth time, she found it hard to believe he had written it at all. Something was off about the reply- There was a false note to it's kindly and understanding overtone.

She scrutinised the handwriting, and came to the conclusion that the neat scrawl could have only been created by her leader's hand. She even recognised the standard paper it was written on, though it shocked her how _muggle _it had felt when she'd untied it from the resentful owl's leg, all machine-refined and perfect in comparison to the rough, romantic parchment she'd gotten used to. Then it had shocked her even more that she'd used the word 'muggle' to describe it, because that word was part of a world she'd considered herself apart from, and now realised she was being drawn into more every day.

"Who've you got a letter from?" Ron demanded, his words blurred because he was chewing toast while he said them. For a moment Raven had forgotten where she was- at Breakfast, surrounded by other people who were giving her wary, worried looks. She realised she'd been staring at her letter for the past few minutes in focused silence.

"Ron, close your mouth when you talk!" Hermione hissed, though she too was looking at Raven curiously. All anyone knew for sure about Raven's upbringing was that she hadn't lived with her mother - the air of mystery about her at times made it was easier for them to believe she had simply faded into existence fully formed that day at Grimmauld Place, like Aphrodite from sea foam and a clam shell, rather than growing up under the care of guardians like everyone else had. Her past was a murky curiosity and this letter was the first sign that she hadn't simply raised herself alone, or that the friends she had mentioned once in passing were real. A few students from the other tables were looking over too. Raven never received letters, and it was likely rumours about who had sent it would be rife by lunch.

"No one." Raven answered, in a tone so dark it convinced them all to drop the subject without comment. "I wanted to ask you something, though," she turned to Hermione suddenly. "about magic, and muggle technology."

Hermione stared back at her, startled, struggling to collect her thoughts when Raven had such an intense look focused on her.

"Well, I... the two don't really mix that well with each other. I told you about the magical energy around places like Hogwart's scrambling signals and leeching battery power. A lot of the newer muggleborns were annoyed their mobile phones wouldn't work this year."

"Right," Raven nodded, a tad impatiently. "I knew that. I was just wondering... if there was a way to detect muggle technology? With magic?"

Raven wasn't stupid. She was far from it, and when her cunning leader was involved she felt her wits heighten in preparation for battle. There was no way in hell that she thought he'd dashed off this sweet little reply and decided to let her do her own thing without telling him any of the details. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced Robin's style of dealing with defiance hadn't simply changed. The Leader she knew was fiercely protective of his team, and would have no trouble poking around in her business if he thought that it was best for her. He understood the need for privacy and time to sort out problems only if you went about it within the boundaries of the rules he put in place. Now Raven had unapologeticly refused to do as he asked, and she would have bet her wand that he'd put some kind of tracker _somewhere. _She just wanted a way to be sure.

Hermione considered her question for a few moments.

"I've never heard of it," she said slowly. "If it exists, it would have to be rather progressive. Most Wizards are really old fashioned, and they think Muggles are primitive and there's nothing we could learn from them. I'll take a look in the Library for you, I've got a free period first thing today."

Raven nodded and carried on eating her breakfast, picking at the crusts of her toast thoughtfully. There was a spark in Hermione's eye, and Raven knew that she'd ignited her interest with the idea of mixing technology and magic. She wouldn't be surprised if she turned up in the common room tonight with several books on the subject and a way to find exactly what Raven wanted. Until then, she would just have to wait and hope the magic around Hogwart's was enough to destroy whatever devices Robin had put in place to find her.

Yet even if he had (somehow) attached a bug to the seriously pissed owl that had dropped her mail off this morning and it stopped working before it reached Hogwarts, she didn't like the thought of them knowing what country she was in at all. While she doubted Starfire would have any trouble dealing with Wizards, she knew Beastboy and Robin didn't stand a chance against spells and curses. What was worse, she didn't know what said magical energy field would do to Cyborg, who was half Muggle technology himself. So, while she hated the idea of Robin trying to trick her, and valued her privacy and time in finishing her goals in the magical world, she also asked Hermione about detecting any bugs Robin might have tried to locate her with for their own safety.

"Hey, anyone noticed that Dumbledore's been missing a lot lately?" Harry suddenly said to the three of them, in a low voice so a nearby Colin Creevey wouldn't overhear. They all knew enough to not look towards the Teacher's table at the same time, and so they each snuck glances towards the Headmaster's elaborate and very empty chair as discreetly as possible. Raven narrowed her eyes.

"He hasn't mentioned anything about a trip in any of our meetings." She muttered, her voice monotone but implying suspicion to the others, who'd become attuned to the subtle differences in her voice that accompanied various emotions.

"He never does," Harry complained darkly. "At least, when he was talking to me he never used to tell me when something was happened. Not until he felt I needed to know."

"I'm sure he has his reasons." Hermione said carefully, trying to avoid Harry exploding into a rage on her, or having Raven's annoyed eyes flicked sharply in her direction. The darker girl sighed inwardly. It was tough to have the experience and training of a superhero and be around people who were so naive. While she respected the other three, it was hard to hold back from berating them as she would her team for some of the foolish notions they entertained. The world was not split into good and bad, so why was it so hard for people like Hermione to see that there was darkness in their Headmaster? Why did the entire Order follow him so blindly, never stopping to think that Dumbledore's best intentions might not turn out so good for _them_? They seemed to equate Dumbledore's desire to see the light side prevail as a guarantee he would always look out for each and every one of those tangled up in that desire with him, rather than as a promise that he would sacrifice much to see his dream come true, including their well-being.

Raven did not think Dumbledore was a bad person. She thought he was an incredibly talented and wise leader, and that he commanded respect like no one she'd ever seen before. She just saw that he was ready to manipulate those who could help him destroy Voldemort, because he knew that many in a war's generation would have to be destroyed to ensure the future didn't have to face much worse. She couldn't see how this escaped the notice of the others.

Just as she couldn't see Draco Malfoy watching them from the Slytherin table, as absorbed as she was in her thoughts of manipulative leaders, and how to outmanoeuvre them. Neither did Harry, Ron, or Hermione see him, as absorbed as they were in their pondering over Dumbledore's absence. A few random students here and there did see him, but if they noticed he was staring far too intently at the group than normal they chalked it down to his strange obsession with bullying Raven, which many speculated had stemmed from a rejected advance.

Draco didn't touch his food once he'd filled his plate with enough hotcakes and bacon to suggest he was ravenous, instead taking the time to meticulously commit every detail of the Golden Quartet's breakfast to memory. The constant dull ache in his bones that was more a left-over sensation than real, current pain reminded him over the course of the day to keep his eye on them. He found the Cruciatus curse, if performed on you enough, left you with the vestiges of agony for a few days after. Voldemort had been furious when Draco had told him of his failed kidnapping. He'd had to tell him for fear he would find out himself, even though doing so had been one of the toughest experiences of Draco's life. Standing in front of the Dark Lord, his heart had turned to ice and his lower guts had melted into a soup, so when the punishment had finally come it was a relief in many ways. His parents had been terrified. His father had taken great pains to assure Voldemort he hadn't known of his idiotic son's plans.

In the end, after several hours of Cruciatus sometimes performed by his aunt, (and once, for a few seconds, by a white-faced Lucius) Voldemort had silkily praised his glory-seeking and given Draco a new job. To send back detailed letters of Raven's movements to Malfoy Mannor once it became dark enough for him to slip out to the Owlery unnoticed, every single night. Voldemort wanted to find a pattern in her movements that would help them find an opening to attack her, now that he had accidentally let her in on the fact the Death Eaters were likely to kidnap her. Draco knew this job was a death sentence - if he missed one important fact in his letters it would be _Avada Kedavra. __But even though he knew he was far more likely to fail and be murdered than succeed and gain back the Dark Lord's favour, h_e had no choice but to clench his sweaty fists under the desk each class and pretend that life was normal, all the while keeping an eye on the violet-haired demoness.

* * *

_Number Twelve Grimmaul Place, 8pm_

The room was buzzing with silent excitement. Dumbledore took his seat, and the meeting was officially in session.

Things had been moving both quickly, and intolerably slowly, with the Order in the past few weeks. At first the leads were many and the people available to chase them too few, but one after another the loose ends were found to be inconsequential and it looked like Voldemort and his followers were doing nothing but plot about kidnapping Raven. The disappearances had stopped. There was nothing left for the Order to guard any more. There were no Death Eaters skulking around Knockturn Alley, carrying on whispered conversations with the owner of Borgin and Burkes or the Witch who ran the shady apothecary while her rich husband was "away" on a holiday that had stretched on for years and years now. There were no more mysterious happenings reported in the Prophet, and the stories that claimed Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore were liars became more confident in their attacks. It was almost as if Voldemort had given up his nefarious plans and decided to retire.

"Now, Remus, anything to report?" Dumbledore asked the question casually enough, but the excitement increased by several notches with his words. After a string of dead ends, Remus Lupin had finally managed to convince one of his Werewolf acquaintances that Voldemort would spell doom for them all. The Werewolf, a polish Wizard named Zajac, knew of a few foreign Death Eaters and agreed to bring him to a gathering in Toulouse, up near the Pyrenese Mountains where one of them had a home. The Werewolf's blessing was the key to gaining immediate and unquestioned trust among those Death Eaters who enjoyed prestigious jobs as Voldemort's recruiters and ambassadors of sorts in larger Europe- and a healthy distance from the watchful eye of the man himself. Here it was hoped talk of the Death Eater's plans would be loose and loud, and Remus might gather some information that would help the Order plan their next move. This was the break they were waiting for.

"No news." Remus said, and his shoulders sagged as faces fell around him, as if their weight had fallen onto his back. He looked older than ever before. "Nothing to report."

"They are being incredibly quiet of late." Dumbledore commented mildly. Though there was no disappointment in his tone or in his expression, Remus could feel something very close to it radiating off the Headmaster, not to mention the others in the room. A week of surveillance, a unique once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity: wasted.

"I'm sorry. Everyone. I tried to make them think I was sympathetic to their cause, but they made it clear they are simply waiting for Voldemort's orders when the time is right. They drank and gossiped, but it was more about who's wife was cheating on who, than how Voldemort planned to get Raven onside long enough to capture her."

It had been a long shot, that they had all known. Yet they realised now they'd been able to hold panic at bay with the promise of it, and now that was gone there was nothing for the Order to act on.

"What do you think they're waiting for?" Arthur Weasley asked eagerly, ever the optimist, and always believing in their leader. In times like these they were all used to Dumbledore's predictions, which were seldom proved wrong and even then did the job of comforting them when all seemed hopeless. His guess was their compass when there was nothing to point the way ahead.

"I think that they are waiting for Raven to make a mistake and open herself up to an opportunity for kidnapping. Draco Malfoy sends a letter out each evening, rarely with his own rather conspicuous Eagle owl, in hope of stealth. I assume it's a report for Voldemort on her movements. Just as we are watching them, they are watching us." Dumbledore answered gravely, his very presence redolent of wisdom. A collective breath was let out at this fresh angle, at the promise new information brought. None of the other members had known about Draco Malfoy's new habit, except for Severus of course, who had been there in Malfoy Manor when Voldemort had given the boy the task. Remus felt absolved.

"But she _is_ safe at Hogwarts?" Mad Eye asked, out of concern for the consequences should Raven be captured, rather than for the girl herself. It was that way with everyone - they talked of her as less of a girl, than as an unpredictable object of immense value that had to be protected. Only Dumbledore kept saying things that brought home the uncomfortable fact that she was a young woman who could have a right to be among them by her very birth.

"She is very safe. And doing rather well. She has mastered the wand, has she not?" He looked to the teachers, demonstrating the aforementioned knack for making the remaining Marauders tense. Sirius' face darkened with resentment. He didn't need the headmaster to continuously bring up Raven - there was not an hour he didn't dread seeing her turn up in the hallway, where he didn't fret over her very existence. While Severus shifted and gave a curt nod devoid of both enthusiasm and eye contact, Minivera straightened proudly.

"One day she turned up, waved her wand and transfigured a mouse into a matchstick. Miss Granger will have helped her, but I'm very impressed with her progress." She informed the group at large in her clipped Scottish brogue, the implications of her words much warmer than that of previous occasions when she had discussed Raven.

"I imagine Harry will be teaching her quite a few defensive spells." Dumbledore commented, the same note of approval in his voice.

"Harry?" Sirius inquired, in spite of himself. He didn't like to speak up too much in meetings nowadays, least Snape draw attention to his inability to help with the Order, or Dumbledore talk more of Raven to make him pay attention. But he loved to hear anything about his godson, who he was missing. Even if it meant hearing about him in connection with Raven.

"Yes, I should think the illegal defence group Harry organised is still going strong."

"I hope not." Molly Weasley growled, eyes flashing. Arthur looked around nervously and Dumbledore chuckled.

"Perhaps." He agreed. "But it seems he and Raven have become friends. So she will be learning quite a bit off of him, which is good for us considering the first attempt to kidnap her went awry before she could even use her wand. I doubt they will have an easy time capturing her now that she has her natural powers, whatever abilities she used to dispose of Mr. Malfoy, and our type of magic to defend herself."

"Then where to now? Voldemort will be planning to take her when she hasn't got so many people around her, or when she leaves the protection of the school." Mad-eye said gruffly. "She can't stay there forever, even if she wanted to."

"This is why I would like to offer up a controversial suggestion. It is my view that instead of waiting for them to come to her when she is most vulnerable, we should bring her to them when we are all at our strongest."

His words were met with silence. One could almost hear the Order members thinking, their minds clicking and whirring as they felt around the edges of the plan, trying to discover a way around it. After a few moments it was obvious no one had found it. This was a group of talented Wizards and Witches, and though they weren't all the sharpest – Mundungus was resting his shaggy head on the table, giving off the appearance of one who was dozing – they were all creative problem solvers. The fact was, the Order and the Death Eaters were in a battle of patience. While they waited for the Death Eaters to make a move, the Death Eaters waited for Raven to make a mistake. This stale mate didn't look like it would be broken any time soon, and to prolong it would only build up tension. It would cause the Order members to alternate between panic and complacency. It would leave the Death Eaters hankering for a violent resolution. The idea to bring Raven out into the open was risky, but it seemed necessary.

"What are you saying? We offer her up on a platter?" Sirius asked, breaking the meditative silence. He was not angry about what Albus had suggested - not really. Sirius was more angry at the man himself, at the way he had everyone pulled into his web. He hated the way Dumbledore had everything planned out, how he'd assigned everyone a part to play in them whether they liked it or not. Perhaps Raven was truly his daughter, for he could see her getting roped into Dumbledore's war strategy, which involved sacrifice on everyone's part but his. This view was at odds with the part of him that would always respect and admire the Headmaster above anyone else, but it was his bitter view all the same.

"Not quite," Dumbledore said patiently. "I think if we tell her what we've planned, and make sure the rest of the Order is in place to attack once Voldemort brings her to his hiding place, we will be able to attempt to destroy the mirror Voldemort contacts Trigon through, thus his only way of summoning the demon."

"And how do you plan on destroying it?" Remus asked.

"Fiendfyre, Basilisk fangs, Cursed artefacts ... Any dark and powerful force imaginable." He answered, very seriously.

"You don't think Voldemort might suspect a trap if Raven just falls into his hands?"

"I don't think he can afford to suspect it. Raven is an unknown quantity, for all of us. For all we know, and for all Voldemort knows, she could be on the side of the dark. She has already proved she is a superb actress, and incredibly powerful. And after all, she is a demonic creature. Just as we cannot afford to suspect her, neither can Voldemort. He also underestimates how difficult it is to destroy a teenager... as he has shown with Harry many times. He expects them to be helpless, and far less brilliant than himself in every way."

"And if she doesn't want to pretend to be on Voldemort's side?" Sirius asked, shrewdly. He wasn't thinking of the Order, or of strategies – his mind was fixated squarly on what it felt like to be manipulated. His treatment at Dumbledore's orders was frustrating beyong belief, because he could do nothing about it. In a way, defending Raven, who he neither cared for or wanted to see ever again, made him feel like he was defending himself.

"I am hesitant to trick her into it, but our very world is at stake."

"She's just a kid." Sirius replied sharply. He hesitated, finding it somewhat against his nature to be confrontational with Dumbledore.

"That is... too far." Remus attested firmly, going with his instinct on the matter in the hope of sparing himself some painful thought. There was some murmuring in disagreement, though it was too undefined to figure out exactly what the muttering disagreed with. It was hard for many of the Order members to reconcile logic and emotion with this particular plan of action. One one hand, the majority of them had spent hours arguing over the age-limit on joining the Order, in the hope of keeping innocent children out of the war for as long as possible. On the other, those who thought of Raven as an innocent child were few in number (not that she had done anything in particular to give them cause to think it, rather that it was just an air about her), and it was hard to argue with Dumbledore's logic.

"And besides, she'll refuse to do it, and figure out if anyone's trying to trick her." Sirius added fiercly. His anger at the entire situation was boiling over, and it was possible the last vestiges of the afternoon's firewhiskey were fuelling the fire.

Dumbledore sat in the face of the disapproval, as unmoved as a statue in the driving rain of a storm. The Marauder's comments had managed to irritate one member to the point of speaking, though he remained just as still as the Headmaster while he let his face show his distaste.

"If she does refuse perhaps we should look into the possibility she has three fathers," Snape said silkily from the corner, directing his comments at Sirius, who had finally regained the courage to literally stand up to Dumbledore. He ignored Remus on account of the tenuous truce they had together, though the man looked weary. "-to say no to a plan of such vital importance in the war, she would have to have the arrogance of you and Potter combined."

"Severus." Dumbledore warned, not before Sirius had the time to draw his wand and point it at Snape's heart at the mention of James. The insult from Snape was like a firework placed over a lit match, and Sirius had exploded.

"Don't you dare say his name!" he barked.

"Why shouldn't I?" Snape replied, finally moving to swiftly draw his own wand and point it right back.

"Because he was better than you could ever dream to be and it shouldn't come from your slimy lips." Sirius stared down the shaft of Snape's wand, unafraid, almost daring him to shoot a curse.

"He was _scum_. Pretending to be noble, cheating on his wife and-" Serverus spat, preferring to counter with words he knew would really hurt. Even after decades in which the men had every chance to grow up, and in which they had been forced to endure the most terrible lives, it took all of one minute for them to revert back to boyhood.

"We don't know he cheated on Lily!" Sirius roared, though Serverus would not stop. The two men shouted over top of each other, wands drawn and aimed for the kill.

"-strutting around. But _at least _he knew what was at stake. At least he knew that in order to win _we must make sacrifices!" _It infuriated Snape to think he was the only one whose life was being destroyed for the cause. He put himself in harms way each and every day as a spy while Sirius Black sat in his mothers house drinking, and then had the audacity to claim that some sacrifices were too large.

"-He would have known that sending a little girl to do an adult's job is wrong! That I know-

"You know nothing about your so-called best friend, and the girl proves it! Not that she is little by any means, and she has said herself that she would do anything to defeat Voldemort and Trigon-"

The argument was not even about Raven, not even in the smallest way possible. It was about the insecurities of men at the mercy of the bearded puppet master who watched the fight sadly, wishing to absolve them of all pain.

"I don't care what she said, she is sixteen and she's too young to have any idea what she wants-!"

"Shut it, all of you!" It was Tonks who screamed, and it had the desired effect. "It was just a suggestion, and it's clear neither of you are arguing about what's best for Raven and the Order, but about your own egos." Both men clamped their mouths shut, and Severus retreated to his corner the way smoke curls away on the wind. Sirius, rigid, lowered his wand hand though he still kept his fist closed around it. Mousy haired, exhausted and furious, Tonks fixed her gaze on Lupin. She seemed to inflate, as if she wanted to yell at him too, but the fact he hadn't really been doing anything wrong forced her to take a deep breath, swallow her planned words, and fix her eyes firmly on the wall. Remus blinked, startled, and then settled back into his new found state of misery.

"Thank you." Dumbledore nodded to her, before addressing the group at large. "I didn't expect this plan of action to be decided on quickly, or without controversy. In fact, if it had been I would be seriously questioning what the war has done to our sense of morality already. This is a young woman we are talking about, despite her genetic inheritance, and we must never forget that. Leaving her out in the open for Voldemort to find will be dangerous, and no matter what precautions we take there will always be the risk things will not go as we hope. But we must also remember why this Order exists in the first place – to destroy Voldemort and his followers so absolutely future generations will never have to fear him. It has always been, and always will be, our goal. In the first war we sacrificed much. This time I fear we will have to sacrifice even more. When each of you pledged your allegiance to this organisation you swore you understood that, yet sometimes we will not be in a position to be the ones taking chances. Sometimes we will have to ask the uninitiated and vulnerable to take them for us – for the greater good."

He looked around gravely, as his words burrowed deep into the skin of every stony-faced Witch and Wizard in the room- even Mundungus, who had put his head up to listen.

"It is my wish that while we never become flippant about imploring others to make the sacrifices we wish we could make ourselves, we never loose sight of what such sacrifices can achieve. Please think carefully on it. We vote next week. This meeting is over."

* * *

**Once again, I am sozzy for the wait. I seem to have major writers block on this story, and sudden inspiration for _Heady. _Though, you know, if you guys read and reviewed that story too it might hurry me up in future ;) Don't let the mention of Cy/Rae put you off, it's all Malchior!**


	16. Confirmation

**I own nothing. **

**Guys, calm the Dumblydore hate to imagine being him for a moment. You are the leader of the only organisation trying to stop Voldemort, and while the members of said organisation are talented, good, and dedicated- they are also occasionally complete dumb asses. You have to co-ordinate all these people, who are clearly less brilliant/wise/handsomely bearded than you are, and if you don't do it effectively thousands will die. Of course you are going to have to manipulate them! That's what leading is! Perhaps I sound like a communist when I say this, but I believe the needs of one or two people are outweighed by the masses. When he manipulates Raven, he is not doing it because manipulating teens is super fun. He is doing it because she is the only thing stopping Voldemort winning. When he suggests putting Raven up as bait, he is doing it because it seems the only way forward in the war. People forget that Raven said herself she would do anything to stop Trigon. Her entire life is dedicated to fighting evil as a superhero, so in my eyes she might as well be a soldier. Let's cut Dumbly some slack. **

* * *

_Six-thirty Pm, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Despite her new magical successes, Raven found school was becoming harder than ever before. The Professors, while initially elated at her break-through (except for Snape, who was about as emotive as she was) were now frantic about her progress. While the other students were struggling to keep up with the average OWL coursework, she had to cope with the added pressure of teachers trying to ram five years worth of knowledge down her throat. It seemed that before they had allowed her to do a lot of cruising. She remembered spending lessons tuned out because she couldn't understand half the terms used, or do any of the spells, and that was all coming back to bite her now the teachers thought she had half a chance to pass her exams. Raven would have liked to tell them she didn't plan on being around that long, but imagining the furious speech McGonagall would reply with kept her biting back the sarcastic remarks that simmered just beneath the surface.

As such, she now found herself in the common room most evenings, surrounded by more books than even Hermione, as she tried to knock out essay after essay for marking. It wasn't so much the complexity of the theories that gave her headaches, but the shear volume of them: in the space of five years anyone could absorb this information (which explained Crabbe and Goyle's continued presence at Hogwarts) but in one term it was too much for her. The trio were doing what they could to help- Ron taking special enjoyment in being able to explain things Raven didn't quite understand after an evening of drilling Transfiguration rules into her brain. It took up her day from sunrise to sunset, giving her little to no time to think about Voldemort or her team back home. She saw this as negative or positive based on the mood she was in at the time. On one hand she felt like stewing over tracking devices and Dark Lords in league with the Church of Blood was doing nothing for her, and on the other it scared her when she forgot about those things and behaved like a normal, albeit emotionally stunted, Hogwarts student. She didn't want to forget about the friends she'd left behind when she went on this search, and couldn't afford to forget about her father's deal with Voldemort. Not even for a moment.

For the time being however, she was preoccupied with transfiguring her quill into a regular ballpoint pen rather than stewing in her guilt. Part of a unit involving Muggle-proofing magical homes so non-magical neighbours or random visitors wouldn't spot oddities and become suspicious. Apparently the others had studied it in fourth year. She was determined to master the damn spell soon so she could move onto the potions homework that she actually understood.

"_Dastro-"_

_Thump._

Hermione appeared out of thin air to drop the largest book Raven had ever seen (and she had seen some big books in her time) on the table in front of her armchair, and fixed her with an exasperated look.

"I searched the library _all over _and I couldn't find more than a few books that mentioned mixing Muggle technology and magic, and even then they were all medical journals. So I went to ask Professor Burbage and she said it all depends on what kind of technology you're trying to detect." Hermione gave Raven a funny look and hesitated before proceeding, taking the spare seat across from her. "So... what are you trying to detect?"

"I'm not looking for any device in particular. Just... anything involving satellite waves really." She replied mildly. She set her wand down with care, having become more respectful of it lately. She distinctively remembered Cyborg saying Satellites were how the supply of trackers they kept for when Robin felt like playing detective transmitted. That was something to be thankful for, at least. Out here in the country, where most of the population were Wizards or _very_ rural Muggles, she could only imagine the number of wirelesses about, that might confuse any spell that could detect a tracker that transmitted information by radio waves. Hermione however, frowned - after a slightly suspicious look in Raven's direction.

"Oh, I was hoping you would say radio waves. Wizards accepted things like that when Muggles first figured them out, but satellites are a bit less common." She said, flipping open the heavy cover. "The history of it is quite interesting, actually. There was a lot of excitement about Muggle technology in the more liberal Ministry departments around the dawn of the twentieth century. The Minister at the time, and most high-ranking officials were just starting to come around to the idea of starting a magical science department when the Germany started bombing Britain and Muggle technology was deemed unstable enough by itself without magic getting involved. For a couple of decades there were people who believed the benefits could outweigh the risks, but the destruction of Nagasaki and Hiroshima in the second world war made it impossible to get anyone to listen." She paused thoughtfully. Raven hoped she wouldn't go on – while the history _was_ interesting, she didn't have any space left in her head for anything a teacher wasn't likely to randomly ask her in the middle of a lesson tomorrow. Hermione seemed to sense her impatient want of an answer, and flicked to the contents page of the book.

"Professor Burbage lent this to me after I asked about it. She said there are spells for detecting Muggle objects..." she lapsed into silence as she began to read, and Raven continued on with her spell as quietly as she could, keeping on eye and ear on her bushy-haired friend. In her pocket she could feel the folded letter from Robin poking into her thigh, and while she had examined it and performed various spells designed to reveal deception, no tiny, invisible tracker had shown itself. If anything, Robin must have put it on the owl she had sent to him. Hermione sighed heavily after half an hour of scanning. Five minutes before Raven had managed to coax the quill to turn into a pen, though she had been going for blue rather than red ink.

"Nothing on detecting satellite signals. They're not even mentioned in the book."

Though Raven's face showed no emotion, she was disappointed. She'd been so sure Hermione would find a lead for her and yet she was no closer to discovering if Robin had bugged her letter than she was when it had arrived, and she knew if she didn't write back soon he would get even more paranoid and loose the nice guy act (if it had even been real). She knew there would be another way to figure it out, but she couldn't think through the equations and medieval history clogging up her thought processes.

In the corner Harry and Ron were having a whispered discussion on Voldemort. From where Raven was sitting it looked one-sided: Harry's expression was manic and his voice low and urgent; Ron's body language was uncomfortable and he kept looking to Hermione for help. She was studiously ignoring him, presumably not wanting to be dragged into the conversation.

"I'm going for a walk" Raven announced. While wondering where Robin had placed the tracker _on _the owl, it suddenly occurred to her it might be _in _it instead. A sudden urge to see the bird in the flesh had seized her, and besides, she felt she wouldn't make any more progress with her homework tonight. Even if her theory was crazy and turned out to be another dead-end, it would be nice to refresh her brain with a walk in the frigid grounds.

"Right well I'm feeling really tired. Harry, you should go with her." Ron said, taking the opportunity to cut off whatever conspiracy Harry was in the middle of spouting. While Ron and Hermione thought his ideas were unhealthy, Raven found she liked even the wrong ones. It felt like soon enough he would have to fall on the right conclusion, and his questioning of everything and anything reminded her so much of her leader it was almost like having Robin around.

Harry looked annoyed.

"You don't believe me."

"Well..." Ron looked panicked. Hermione was staring at the fire as if it had just told her something very interesting about House Elves.

"I'll be fine alone." Raven murmured. She'd seen many of Harry's famous temper tantrums in class, and didn't like the idea of witnessing another at this very moment.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked quickly, keen to cut Harry's accusations off.

"To the Owlery. I need to send a letter home."

"You can borrow Hedwig if you like. He's back from Sirius'." Harry said. He started out the sentence strong, his angry eyes on Ron, but he faltered and quietened half-way through his godfather's name. Harry and Raven's friendship wasn't exactly rock solid, but they were friends nonetheless, so it was easy to forget the possible relationship between them. Eventually it always reared it's head one way or another, always followed by an uncomfortable silence and the wish never to raise the subject again, by accident or otherwise. They avoided the reason Raven was in the magical world in the first place at all costs, similar to the way they avoided Professor Umbridge, and now the group sat frozen at the acknowledgement.

"No thanks." Raven said evenly, breaking the spell. Further explanation about her choice of owl was thankfully not needed or expected at such an uncomfortable moment. "Besides, I feel like some fresh air."

The reminder of Raven's possible father sobered Harry. Ron was spared a shouting match, and Raven could have sworn she saw Hermione let out a sigh of relief from the corner of her eye.

"Uh, me too then." Harry jumped up and followed her silently to the portrait hole. Inwardly she was cursing. She'd wanted to check out the owl for suspicious signs on her own. It was her last and most desperate idea, but all the same there was something tantalising about it, like a string being dangled just out of reach. She felt like this had to be the way to find out for sure, if there was any way at all. It would be difficult now, with Harry around, and she wondered why he was accompanying her at all. They normally hung out in a group of four (or more, when members of the flourishing DA were around and no members of Umbridge's inquisitorial squad were near to give out detentions for suspicious gatherings). She couldn't recall many moments when they'd been alone together, possibly because of the awkward questions still to be answered about her paternity. She found it hard not to look at him and wonder if they were brother and sister, and she imagined he felt the same.

"I'm sorry for mentioning Sirius." Harry said, quickening his pace to match hers as she strode through the coridoors. It wasn't quite dark out yet, but she didn't fancy running out of time and having to return to the castle or risk being caught out past curfew by Filtch. She didn't know what she'd do if she earned a detention – she wasn't used to being controlled by any authority other than Robin, who usually did as she asked if she presented a well-structured argument.

"Don't be. He's your godfather."

"I know it's just..." He broke off, frustrated with his inability to articulate his thoughts. "We used to talk about him a lot before..."

"Before I came?" Raven asked lightly. She didn't like to remember that day, both because of the unsavoury way she'd acted and because the memory of her disappointment on realising she would not discover her father that night rubbed in the fact that months later, she still didn't know.

"Yeah."

"You still can, if you want. Talk about him." Raven said, because she felt she had to. Really, she would prefer he dropped the subject now and never picked it up again.

"I wouldn't feel right." He gave an awkward little laugh, and she felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Why don't you just talk about it when I'm not around, then?"

She liked the trio. She just wished they would look to the obvious solution first.

"Well, we can't exactly mention him in front of the other Gryffindor's..."

"Why not?" She asked absent-mindedly, as they reached the grounds and were hit by the chill of the oncoming wind. Harry looked at her sideways, his expression careful.

"Dumbledore didn't tell you?"

"About what?"

"When Sirius was in prison."

"He told me he had been imprisoned for a crime he was innocent of, and warned me not to mention any of the Marauder's names to anyone who didn't already know of the situation. I don't know anything else about it." She lied fluently.

A week or so ago, before the deluge of Homework had really gotten flowing, she'd picked up a discarded newspaper in the common room with the intention of scanning it for signs of Death Eater activity, as cut off as she was from Order activity with the Headmasters absence. Before she'd absorbed a word of it, she'd frozen at the moving image on the front page: Sirius Black, ragged and gaunt in chains, snarling at her like a wild animal under the headline '**Black goes back into hiding'**. Raven had stared at the picture for ten minutes before it even occurred to her to read the article, and in it she found the Wizarding world had been blaming Voldemort's attacks on the escaped convict that may or may not have been her father. Now that Voldemort had quietened down, the Ministry and it's Aurors were credited with driving him back into hiding. There had been a brief summary of the crimes Sirius had been accused and found guilty of, along with words and phrases like "Mass murderer", "The sadistic monster whose cruelty was matched only by the Dark Lord himself" and "Voldemort's most loyal follower."

The young sorceress still wasn't exactly sure what it was that had disturbed her so much about the article, considering everything printed in the daily newspaper had to be taken with a grain of salt. Perhaps it was the fact no one felt it important or wise to mention the whole thing to her before now. That was suspicious enough. How did she know the evidence of his innocence was solid when no one had told her about the crime itself, let alone the proof he didn't commit it? The words 'Voldemort's most loyal follower', and Dumbledore's mystery spy linked themselves together in her mind and made her uneasy. As a rule she trusted no one, but from experience she knew to _distrust _Albus Dumbledore when it came to certain matters. How did he know his spy was loyal? How did he find the faith to put all his eggs in one basket, by recruiting a double agent in the midst of a war? How the hell did she know Sirius wasn't the psychopathic killer the _Prophet_ said he was? It would be just her luck.

"Right, well. The Ministry still don't believe he didn't do it. He escaped Azkaban and is probably the most wanted man in Western world, so we can't mention him in public, just in case the wrong person is listening." Harry explained. He felt in that moment he should have told her everything. Yet he couldn't, because that would involve mention of Wormtail and he did _not_ want to be the one to tell her about him.

Raven nodded, wondering what else they were keeping from her. The spy didn't have to be Sirius - there were the mysterious lives of her other potential fathers to consider. Umbridge had once referred to Lupin in class as a half-breed. A half-what, exactly? Whatever he was, she'd made it clear it wasn't desirable, though Raven wasn't as worried about him any more. The more she'd thought about it, the less likely it was a "half-breed" was her father if she took for granted Umbridge wasn't just a racist and Lupin's mother wasn't simply German. Human and demon seemed about all she was, thankfully. She doubted she could handle being part vampire, or fairy, or whatever other creatures from old B-movies existed in this world. The one she was really concerned about was Wormtail. He was a blank page to her - she didn't even know his name. In her experience no news was bad news, which gave her the option of being fathered by a convicted mass murderer, another half human, or an enigma. It really spoke volumes about the level of drama in her life that the plainest candidate was the deceased, married father of the famous boy walking next to her.

"So, you're sending a letter back home?" Harry asked awkwardly, making a welcome change of subject. His attempt at a casual tone unexpectedly made her smile.

"Yes. And no, I'm not going to tell you who they are or where they live."

"I didn't expect you to." He laughed, a little self-consciously. He'd long grown used to Raven's secretive manner, and finally accepted it wasn't something to be suspicious of.

"I can tell you I need a very specific owl to send it with."

"The exact same owl?" he asked incredulously. She nodded imperceptibly.

If the Teen Titans had put a tracker in, or on, the owl she had sent them, it should still be there. Thankfully – hopefully – inactive due to the magical field around the school that scrambled Muggle technology, but physically present nonetheless. She knew how microchipping animals worked. There were no scars, but you could feel them if you knew what to look for. Once, Beastboy had passed out after a battle still in dog-form, and been adopted by a little girl who'd had him chipped before he could subtly escape. Raven supposed they didn't always have to be scanner microchips - she imagined a small tracker would be implanted in much the same way. She looked up at the Owlery building, its grey stone walls almost blending with the colour of the dismal sky. It would be harder with Harry here, but she supposed she would just have to grit her teeth and get the job done as fast as she could. She felt the first droplets of rain and hurried inside the draughty, acrid-smelling building.

"Okay... what did it look like?" Harry frowned, looking up. He seemed more used to the smell than she, not even flinching when he ducked inside. She looked too, and felt her heart drop like a stone in her chest. She hadn't noticed last time because she hadn't been bothered beyond getting one to send her mail, but there were dozens upon dozens of the birds. They came in different colours and sizes, but when she was looking up at them in their perches they all seemed to blend into one another in a flurry of feathers, hay, and clicking beaks.

"Like every other owl." she replied calmly, throwing her mind back to when she'd sent and received her letters, trying to pick out some discerning feature that would allow her to say, _ah!_ And point to one with confidence.

"Uh... are you sure you need the exact same one as before? The offer to borrow Hedwig still stands."

"Thanks, but no, I do need the same one as before."

There was an awkward silence in which Harry wondered why she was so adamant, and both of them knew it. To ease the tension, Raven offered the best description of the owl she could muster. "It was medium sized, with a heart-shaped face. And spots on it's chest."

Apparently there was no need to describe it, because they very same owl peeked it's head over the beam, as if inquiring whether they were looking for it.

"That one. They are... quite smart." she murmured as the bird seemed to reluctantly hop down from it's nest and glide over to them to perch on the stone windowsill. Without hesitating or explaining what she was up to, she stroked along the back of the owls neck, wary in case the thing snapped its head around and bit off one of her fingers. It didn't take long before she felt her fingers ran over the tell-tale bump of a tracker.

"Classic." she smirked, almost forgetting she had company. She took her hand from the owl's feathers and it seemed to sense it's presence was no longer required. The bird spread it wings and took off out the window, into the dusk.

"I thought you needed the owl?" Harry asked in confusion.

"I just needed to check something."

He looked at her strangely. Unlike Luna, she seemed to know her actions were odd, yet she was just as unapologetic for them.

"Okaay."

"C'mon. I've got to write a letter." She made to walk out the door, but Harry grabbed her by her sleeve and pulled her back out of view.

"Malfoy." He murmured. She craned her neck just in time to get a glimpse of a solitary figure, clad in black robes, making it's way across the field towards them. In the dimming light she could only just spot the bleach blonde hair and Slytherin tie that marked the student as Draco.

"What's he doing out so late?" Raven frowned. She noticed Harry had drawn his wand, so fast and quiet she hadn't seen him do it. She blinked – though Harry didn't exactly inspire confidence in her with his slim physique, poor eye-sight and average marks in class, she could see why the others in the Dumbledore's Army, and Dumbledore himself, had faith in him. Harry Potter had instinct, and that was often worth more than physical strength and brains put together.

"He's been acting suspicious lately."

"Is that new?"

"No. But usually Crabbe, Goyle or Zambini are in on it. We never used to see him alone like this. And besides, he's got no reason to come here. He's got his own Eagle owl."

"Perhaps it's out delivering another letter." She suggested. Harry turned his face to her, his expression a curious mixture of determination, disappointment, and frustration.

"You don't believe he's up to something either." he said, shedding light on the subject Ron had been trying to steer him away from in the common room.

"Of course I believe he's up to something. He tried to kidnap me." she answered sharply, giving him an odd look.

"Oh."

There was silence as Harry worked up the nerve to look around the doorway again, to see there was only a hundred metres and a set of steps between them and Malfoy. Despite the urgent feeling of the situation, he couldn't help but question her further.

"It's just... Ron and Hermione think that had nothing to do with Voldemort. That that was just his fathers orders or something." he trailed off, waiting for her reply with baited breath. For some reason, he valued her opinion perhaps even more than that of his long-lost friends. There was just something about the way she spoke, or behaved, that gave everything she said weight. He didn't need to see or hear a list of things she had done to know it was long - he knew she'd seen and done important and dangerous things the same way he knew Mad-Eye Moody had. She was simply less obvious about her severe mistrust of everyone.

"I don't exactly believe Voldemort expressively asked Draco to attack me. But I do believe he's involved in some way." she said seriously. It almost surprised Harry that she shared her thoughts so openly with him. He was used to those who had a bigger part in the war than he did keeping their thoughts and plans a secret.

Placated that at least someone didn't think he was a crazed conspiracy theorist, he focused his attention back on the doorway should a figure jump through it shooting curses. Raven was good enough at magic to perhaps win a duel with a third year, but he didn't want to have to see her up against anyone with knowledge of the dark arts. Who knew what Malfoy had been learning over the summer holidays, or who he might have with him. Despite his fear that she might turn out to be his sister, for a variety of reasons, and the fact she could probably kill him dozens of different ways if she wanted, he felt protective of her. The way she was often caught off-guard by the way things ran around Hogwarts or the wider Wizarding world reminded him of himself as a first year, bewildered and amazed by magic. Even though she handled it with more grace and stoicism that he ever had, it had helped her transformation in his eyes from dangerous half-demon to something of a friend.

"Which is why I don't want to find out why he's here." Raven added. "Not after the last time he and I met. I don't trust that he's alone: For all we now he could have seen us leave the castle."

"I don't think we'll be able to get past him." Harry whispered. It was odd, to be up against a possible threat, not with Ron or Hermione, or even alone, but with a girl who might unravel everything he knew about where he came from. It was odder still to be okay with it.

"You forget who you're with." Raven said suddenly, grabbing him by the wrist. Harry caught a smile in her voice before he yelped as his entire body was enveloped by her cold magic, still unused to the sensation. The entire world went black, and the next thing he knew he was in a deserted alcove he recognised as being near Gryffindor tower.

"That must come in handy a lot." He remarked, drawing his arms close to his torso to stave off goosebumps. She smiled sardonicly.

"You have no idea."

* * *

_The T-Tower, Jump City, California_

Days after sending off his blase reply to Raven, Robin decided he really, really hated working with animals. The Team had been operating under the wishful delusion the bird would fly straight to Raven, preferably within a day or so, and instead they'd been waiting for days while the owl took frequent stops. Worse, minutes after the tracker hit it's assumed destination- Scotland -it went off-line.

"Well, at least we know she's around the British Isles." Cyborg offered, sitting back in his chair with an air of resignation. The daily computer check on the tracker revealed no activity since the last check, just as it had every day the week before. For the entire journey it had flown on a pretty direct path, and Robin had liked the idea she was hiding in Europe. It would be much more comfortable for the team to seek her out in London or Paris than in some of the other places he'd been picturing, like Ghana or Iran.

"You're assuming the tracker stopped because she disabled it, when there's a million other things that could have happened." Robin pointed out with barely concealed frustration. "She wouldn't have known it was there, for a start."

"It's unlikely the owl got blown up." Beastboy shrugged, disinterested. It was his opinion that Raven would be fine, though he didn't dare say it out loud in case Robin heard. He just couldn't imagine the darkest, most cautious and arguably most intimidating member of the team falling into trouble. "Raven hiding out in Scotland sounds weird enough."

"I didn't say it got blown up," Robin retorted darkly. "There could have been some interference with the signal. Or something."

"Maybe a bigger owl ate it." Beastboy suggested under his breath, so only Starfire could hear.

"Well, what do you want us to do?" Cyborg asked with a sigh.

"When she replies we'll double the amount of trackers we send." Robin replied without hesitation, unable to hear how demented and overbearing he sounded.

"Isn't that... overkill?" Cyborg asked, even though he knew what Robin's reply would be. Once he got an obsession with something, he refused to let it go. Now that finding Raven was his obsession, nothing was overkill on the way to getting her back to Jump and figuring out what had kept her away.

"She's our team mate!" he snapped back. He was ready to unleash a furious tirade on why Raven needed to be home _right now_ and how it was neglectful to think otherwise, when a quiet but momentous beep on the screen silenced him. The tracker was back online, shining bright red and tiny against the map of the World. It was in the exact spot it had been when it had blinked off, but even as he watched it, slightly aghast, he could see it was moving slowly but surely in the direction it had come from - presumably, back towards them.

* * *

**An odd place to finish perhaps, but this is already about 5,000 words long. As you can see I am slowly recovering from my debilitating writers block. **

**I have recently had the pleasure of being called 'sickening' for my review whoring. Which only served to remind me I hadn't done it in a while. SO REVIEW****. I am not ashamed of myself. I love your criticisms and comments and I will continue to implore you to share them with me for as long as I write. **


	17. The unfortunate Truth

**Once more, sorry about the wait. I had some trouble figuring out how to get from point A to point B with this story. I even considered dropping it in favour of my other, more cherished story (that no one seems to like) but thankfully I'm back on track. It's also the holidays, so I'll have oodles of free time in which to write the next couple of chapters ;) **

* * *

_Titans Tower, Jump City, California_

For a few days, Robin had watched that small dot get closer and closer to North America with bated breath. He could only guess at what tone Raven's reply would take, and that worried him. He was so used to being able to predict her next move, thanks to years of observation, friendship, and the supernatural bond that linked them together. With her so far away, he could feel only that she was still alive, and nothing much else. Something important was keeping her away, and he had no more idea of what it was than he had of _where_ she was. He couldn't read her from all the way over here, and her reply could contain any news, from a declaration she was coming home immediately, to one she wasn't coming home at all.

The rest of the team kept an eye out for any white spots on the horizon but didn't scrutinise the sky for hours on end the way their leader did. While they were all keen to see the owl return, it wasn't the focus of the day. Such energies were better reserved for game station tournaments or training sessions. Each of them felt, without articulating it or even marking it with the significance of a thought, that if Raven was really in trouble they'd feel it in their bones. Still, when the owl finally did announce it's own arrival with an indignant hoot, they all rushed to the kitchen like children on Christmas morning. Robin, of course, got there first. He lunged at the animal, untying the knot of twine around its ankle with urgent fingers. The wait while he struggled with the envelope and unfolded the parchment was almost physically painful.

_"'Dear Team, I'm so glad you've been so understanding about the situation. Especially Robin- I didn't think you had it in you. However you've shown beyond the shadow of a doubt that you believe in my abilities, and that is worth more than I can say.'"_

Robin began to read the letter aloud, satisfaction warming him at the sight of her long cursive scrawl. Raven was such an enigma to him, even after all these years, that something of her had melted away in her absence. She'd never been a loud presence, the way the other three were. The atmosphere didn't noticeably warm or chill when she entered the room. The marks she'd left on the team had gone unnoticed while she was with them, but as soon as she'd left it was obvious something impossible to grasp was missing from their lives. She'd covered her face so often and hidden from cameras so well Robin sometimes found himself struggling to recall her features, and when he lay in bed at night she seemed such an incredible being that it was unlikely she'd ever existed at all. If the team weren't around to commiserate he might have thought her fictitious, a figment of his repressed imagination. So seeing her handwriting, concrete proof she still existed on earth, filled him with a sense of relief.

_"'It means so much to have support from my friends. I thought for a moment when I sent that letter to you, scared as I was of the response, that you wouldn't trust me to take care of myself or know the best course of action to take. I'm glad to have been proven so wrong, and can_..." Robin paused briefly, becoming he aware he'd been reading the letter in the wrong tone. "'_barely contain my joy as I write this.'" _

He'd half expected Raven would deduce something off in his polite response, and her reply would be a scathing review of his poor attempts at subterfuge, but still it was a bit jarring to see how much sarcasm she could pack into her writing. Even now he could picture her narrowed violet eyes scrutinising him from the past, and felt she was performing the same magic on him from the other side of the globe. Robin frowned and Cyborg grimaced, but still he kept on reading.

_"'In fact, I feel so terribly about not sticking to the promise I made you all about coming home in time, that I've decided to tell you exactly where I am, and invite you to come along and interrupt!'" _

"Okay, she's found the tracker." Cyborg half laughed, half sighed.

"What do you mean? Raven seems most pleased with us." Stafire asked in confusion. "Does she not?"

"It's sarcasm Star." Beastboy explained. "Lots and lots of it."

"Oh."

Robin frowned and speed up, trying to find a section that could be read in all seriousness.

_"'I find I don't care any more that being followed by you all will jeopardise every task I have come here to complete. I don't mind that having my every move scrutinised only heaps more stress on top of what I am already dealing with. In fact, why implant trackers into owls when you can implant them directly into me! That way you can know my every move, and nothing will be a secret!"_

Robin sighed in disappointment. Of course his fake acceptance of her decision in his letter hadn't fooled her. The Raven he knew was too smart for that, and now he couldn't believed he'd tried.

"And then there's more of the same... _'So pleased to know the last several years together have strengthened your trust in me'_... _'It's wonderful that while Robin is also obsessive, domineering and invasive, honesty will always remain his strongest virtue_.' Why is most of this directed at me?" He demanded, thrusting the letter into Cyborg's outstretched hand.

"Because she knows the trackers were your idea. The rest of us where happy to just let her carry on her own way." The larger man laughed.

"Right." He grimaced. "Fine, well... we're still doing as I said."

"More trackers?" Beastboy groaned. "I don't think that's safe for the owl."

"We mustn't hurt the poor creature." Starfire echoed solemnly. The bird had hopped from its position on the back of a chair over to her arm, it's talons resting against her alien skin, but not piercing it. She inclined her head towards its own and smiled. Cyborg continued to scan the letter, his face as unmoving and expressionless as a rock though the others could imagine how hard he was fighting his facial muscles for that control. One could almost see the nerves twitching - he didn't quite have the same skill for hiding emotions as their missing demoness did.

"One more." Robin said finally, more of a promise than an order. "Just to confirm she really is in Scotland. If it tells us what I think it will, then we're going to get her."

"I don't know if that's a good idea." Cyborg warned. "Listen to this... _"If the team came looking for me, it would put us all in danger_.""

"All the more reason to go, if she's in danger."

"She doesn't say that. In fact, she goes on to say _"Not because I am in a dangerous environment, but because you would not understand the particular situation I am in, and would create unnecessary risks.""_

"Which is why when we write back, we'll beg her to explain everything. I'm not letting her deal with this on her own. You know what she's like – she kept the whole Trigon thing to herself the entire time we knew her. Even though the end of the world was looming she hid it because she was afraid of how we would react and thought nothing could be done. She needs to know that no matter what, we won't abandon her and we'll do everything we can to help."

"I think she does know that. She just wants some time, and some privacy." Cyborg replied gently. Robin stared out the window for a moment, as if expecting another owl to appear any second, bearing bad news.

"I can't agree to that deal. Not when I don't know what price we might pay for it." he said tightly.

* * *

_The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"There is never any good tea here." Raven mused dispassionately, checking the tea pot as she did every morning. Besides the classic pumpkin juice she had oddly never been seized by the urge to try, water, and a weak earl grey, there were no liquids to accompany the as-always generous breakfast spread. The closest she got to a nice herbal blend these days was the sickly pink stuff Umbridge sipped (in a manner Raven was sure she imagined as delicate) during their subdued DADA classes, or the stale-tasting green tea they used for readings in Divination. She wasn't a girl who became attached to material possessions or comforts easily, but after three months she found herself feeling like Robin without coffee, or Cyborg without the T-car, or Beastboy without archaic knock-knock jokes, or Starfire without glorknog day or whatever celebration she had been raving about in the weeks before Raven had found the fated _Demon Lore _and lost her grip on life as she knew it. But at least her desire for a nice lemon grass didn't leave a hole in her chest the way her desire to see her old friends did, and that was something to be grateful for.

"Eh, you'll get used to it." Harry shrugged. "The tea's always grey, just like the weather." He added, looking up at the ceiling of the Great Hall, with it's steel-coloured clouds that threatened snow.

"Like everything else today." Hermione remarked pointedly. Ron was slumped over his bacon, staring at the streaks as if he could see the meaning of life within the greasy molecular structure, and it was the most depressing thing imaginable. He didn't pick up on her hint. She sighed and looked to Raven. "I could ask my parents to send you some, but they'll probably forget and just send fresh dental floss again. You could always try one of the shops at Hogsmeade."

"No thanks. I don't fancy trying some of those... unique flavours." She wrinkled her nose slightly, remembered the boxes she'd briefly contemplated on her last trip, out of desperation. Great herbalists, witches and wizards, until it came to something she really needed. They could think up a million uses for the chamomile plant, but not one of those uses had anything to do with the simple combination of dried leaves and boiling water. After she said it, she noticed her little slip of the tongue with an internal jolt. _I don't fancy... _Who knew slang was so easy to pick up?

"You could always send a note down to the house elves, requesting something different." Harry suggested distractedly. Random students Raven had never spoken to before kept coming up to talk to him, or smiling at him from across the hall. And was it just a trick of light, or were the Slytherins shooting their table nastier looks than usual?

"I think they've got quite enough to do already." Hermione snapped, glaring at Harry disapprovingly. He didn't seem to notice, so she gave up with a roll of her eyes.

As breakfast progressed Raven wondered briefly why Ron seemed so down, and the other Gryffindors seemed so eager to cheer him, until it became clearer as the hall gradually filled up with students wearing a lot more colour than usual. By the time she was finishing her toast, the hall was streaked with green and silver on one end, and gold and Scarlett on the other. Polar opposites in the microcosm of Hogwarts, they seemed to repel each other from across the hall, narrowed eyes and shouted insults the only things bridging the gap between. It was the 2nd of November, the first Quiddich game of the year, and she couldn't believe she'd forgotten. Today was the day she was meant to steal Harry's hair once and for all. Perhaps she should of thought of that before she sent such a harsh letter to the team mates she'd be relying on to carry out the DNA test for her, specifically Robin.

"Hiya Harry!" A mousy boy with a camera and glassy eyes about half a size too big for the rest of his face sidled up to their end of the table, his face alive with delight.

"Oh, hey Colin." There was a flash and she was blinded, instantly reminded of paparazzi stalking the Teen Titans out in public, hoping to get a photo of Starfire and Robin holding hands to bump some fatal (_fatally_ boring, one photographer had remarked with a pout) car accident off the front page of the paper.

"Still got the camera, I see." Ron remarked gruffly, blinking back into reality.

"Excellent." Harry muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm doing the game photography!" Colin said excitedly. "Good luck, both of you!"

She made a mental note to find that kid and destroy his camera later, least a picture with her blurry profile in the corner fall into the wrong hands.

"Right." Harry said cheerfully, as Ron went back to staring at his plate, still piled high with food. "Time to go."

Ron looked up, pale and startled, but stood all the same. Hermione wished them luck, kissing each boy swiftly on the cheek, while Raven nodded. Now would have been an optimum time to pull the two into a hug and wrench out a hank of hair as subtly as she could, but she couldn't bring herself to do it there, in front of all those people who knew about her aversion to physical contact. Cursing herself, she left the hall with a preoccupied Hermione before the rest of the school started to head out to the pitch.

Raven had never been one for organised sport, and Hermione confided to her in the stands that she wasn't either. Still, when the game finally started neither girl could help following the balls zooming around the pitch, from holding their breath as the "Quaffle" headed towards Ron, or a "bludger" grazed Harry. Energy rolled off the crowd in powerful waves that wreaked havoc with her emotions. She felt like she was swimming upwards, fighting hard not to drown in the excitement. In one way, watching the game was terrifying. As a superhero, she was so used to jumping in to save her team mates, so seeing people she considered friends flying through the air at speed chased by morons with massive bats when she knew they couldn't fly was nerve-wracking to say the least. She felt like she might leap out of her seat, or accidentally display her powers at any moment. In another way, watching the game was enjoyable. It was... nice, not to stand out. To be a part of a crowd who were all enthralled in something as _normal _as a sporting match, despite how abnormal it would have seemed to Muggles.

Raven was surprised to be so pleased with the result when Harry triumphantly grabbed the Snitch out from under Malfoy's hand, even when one of the offish idiots (Crabbe or Goyle, she couldn't tell which) slammed a bludger in his direction. She should have known better than to think the feeling would last. What seemed like moments later, Harry and one of the Weasley twins were charging towards Malfoy on the ground. Hermione gasped, and within seconds was pulling Raven out of the stands by her arm. By the time they reached the pitch, McGonigall was already there to rebuff them, clearly fuming. Her mood seemed to rub off on Hermione, who returned to the castle cursing (albeit with the cleanest language possible) about how stupid Harry was the entire way.

"Doesn't he ever _think?_" she hissed, collapsing into her favourite chair in the Common room, by the empty fireplace. Raven took her question to be rhetorical, so didn't reply with her thoughts. In her view Harry rarely thought before he acted, but that was probably what had saved him from Voldemort so many times before. Lacking skill, he acted like a threatened animal and since it had always worked, control was never forced on him the way it had been forced on Raven. "I mean, Umbridge was right there in the stands! She saw the whole thing, and who knows how she'll punish him."

"I think Malfoy provoked him." Neville Longbottom told her gently. Raven almost laughed. '_He provoked me'_ was the lamest excuse in the book. She briefly allowed herself to imagine telling Azar that, if she'd lost control and blown up one of the Azarathian kids who'd called her nasty names. Hermione however, spoke before she could make a sound.

"Psh! He's been provoking every non-Slytherin since he first set foot in Hogwarts! Harry especially should know better." They lapsed into silence until a dark-skinned girl Raven recognised vaguely as the Captain of the Quiddich team stormed over to them, the Weasley twins dragging themselves miserably behind her.

"Where is he?" She snapped at Hermione.

"What happened?"

"Banned. All three of them!"

"But George didn't even do anything!"

Raven lost interest in the conversation before before George could express quite how much he wished he had. While Hermione and the Captain were frowning at the twins Raven briefly caught a glimpse of a bespectacled face opening the portrait hole, glancing in, and disappearing.

"I'm going for a walk." She said, leaving before anyone could reply. She caught up with Harry in a corridor she used to get to Astronomy lessons.

"Hey." He said shortly, not stopping. If he was surprised she had seen him he didn't let on, though she expected his thoughts were consumed by other matters. She fell in step, glad she was in shape. Harry didn't usually walk like he was training for the Olympics, but she guessed anger fuelled him.

"I heard about your ban." she said. He grunted in response and ventured down an unfamiliar corridor that ended at a narrow and ominous looking flight of stone steps. Not quite knowing why, followed him without question. There was a quiet, smouldering energy about his anger she felt warned of danger. They were unquestionable inside one of the castle turrets, and she didn't like the thought of him all alone at the highest possible point he could reach. Finally the mild feeling of claustrophobia was relieved - the door at the top of the stairs opened out to a small balcony, and Harry stopped once he got to the railing.

"I had to get out of the Common room. I can't face Angelina and Ron." he explained. Raven dully noted that the view overlooked the Quiddich pitch, slowly becoming less defined as dusk fell. It was snowing lightly, little flecks that melted on contact with her exposed forearms. She wished she'd bought her cloak, realising she'd left it at the foot of her chair in the common room.

"Not being able to fly, it's not the end of the world, is it?" She asked, and immediately knew by his face she shouldn't have said anything. At least there was some expression on it though, which she much preferred to the blank face from before. She wondered if that was the face the Titans complained about, the one they said she wore all the time.

"Flying_ is_ the end of the world." He replied, aghast. She expected a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but none eventuated - he was deadly serious. Not to mention deadly depressed about it.

"What's so great about it?" She'd never gotten into defying gravity for fun. Levitation was for meditation and convenience. She rarely took the time to fly frivolously, but she supposed she could see the appeal of rising just out of reach of the grasping hands of the general public.

"Everything," He said glumly. "and Umbridge has banned me for _life_."

"Umbridge can't stop you from flying if you really want to." Raven frowned, coming to stand next to him at the railing. She didn't like to hear such defeat in the voice of the supposed Chosen One.

"She can. She took our brooms." he replied.

She hesitated, and the before she could stop herself, spilt a secret. She wasn't sure it would really help, but Harry seemed so depressed she couldn't stop herself.

"Brooms aren't the only way to fly, you know."

"Huh?"

She grabbed his hand on a whim. Just like teleportation, if she was touching someone she could extend her levitation beyond herself. If he resisted, it would be difficult, but his hand simply held onto hers tight and before he could speak they were rising into the sky like divers resurfacing from a long journey undersea. There was something odd about the way they held hands. It wasn't the way Beastboy might hold her hand if Robin forced them to link up to practise a training move, loose and uncomfortable, but necessary. It wasn't the way Starfire held her hand at the mall when she got it into her head that they were eight years old either, solid and friendly. It was almost unconscious, and it made her stomach flip uneasily when she noticed it. Without looking at Harry's face even once to gauge his reaction, she took them just high enough to clear the top of the turret's roof. It's gradient wasn't as steep as she thought, and without even communicating with one another they both reached with their free hand for the spire. Raven held his hand only long enough to be sure they both had their feet firmly planted between the tiles, and then cut her energy.

"That was great." He grinned, when she finally made herself look him in the eye. "Not the same, but close."

There was something liberating about sitting in such a dangerous place. Even though she knew that if one of them even looked like they might fall she could teleport them both to safety in a heartbeat, the precarious position got her adrenalin pumping. Harry felt the same, as she'd planned. There was nothing better for cheering up the leader of the DA than a little risk.

"Oh, I see. Levitation isn't good enough for famous Mr. Potter." She said, her voice sounding so similarly silky to Snape's Harry almost felt a shudder. It took him a second to realise she was joking, her mouth twisted into the shadow of a smile.

"I didn't mean that. It's just, nothing can match flying on a broom. It's so _fast. _Like nothing can catch you." He almost threw his arm out in an unconscious gesture, before remembering where he was and holding on tighter. Raven was perched closer to the edge of the sloped roof, capitalising on her superior strength and balance.

"You sound like my friend." She said, thinking of Starfire when she explained the pure happiness and abandon needed to utilise her method of flight. It was something she didn't think she'd ever understand, never having given herself permission to enjoy something so frivolous.

"You never really talk about them." Harry said. With anyone else this would have been the springboard for a new topic of conversation, but Raven didn't respond, even though she knew it would further get Harry's mind off the ban. He wasn't getting any insights into her life before or outside of Hogwarts today, no matter how sad he looked.

"My, er, Dad used to play," He said uneasily after a few moments flailing in the uncomfortable silence, nodding towards the dark mass of the pitch in the distance. Raven felt her stomach twist again, more uncomfortably than before at the notion of James Potter. She remained silent, and Harry felt irritation join the emotional tempest inside him. Raven was so bloody difficult to talk to that even a conversation about the weather could turn frustrating and awkward in a matter of seconds. Why did she seem so uninterested in having a real conversation? After all, she was the one who'd followed _him_. "You know, we can talk about him, if you want."

"I don't want to talk about your father with you," she replied, twisting her head to look at him, and implied incredulity in her expressionless voice. "and I hope you haven't suddenly started hoping I'll turn out to be your sister after all."

Harry laughed in spite of himself.

"No offence, but having you as a sister is the least appealing thing I can think of." He assured her. "Even with the cool powers." She would have smiled, if she hadn't been so busy trying to work out exactly what he meant by that, other than the obvious. There was an energy between them in the cold night air, that got into her blood and put ideas into her head.

"I'm not offended. I just wouldn't feel right talking about your father."

"Fair enough." Once again they lapsed into charged silence. Harry, who was so used to people wanting to talk to him, was at a loss for words trying to engage her.

"But... I do want to ask-" She began slowly. Harry, grateful she was finally raising a new topic of conversation, leaped on the chance.

"What? I'll tell you anything I know." he promised.

"Wormtail." she said flatly. "I want to know about him, but more specificly, I want to know why no one has volunteered the information already."

Raven didn't understand why she felt trembly, as if she were coming down with a sickness. She didn't feel herself at all, so she turned to one of the sources of anger and frustration in her life to root her back in reality. There was something so strange about sitting on this roof in the snow with Harry Potter, and she didn't want to loose her head completely. Thankfully, none of her confusion showed on her face. She stared at the him in wait for an answer, her face relentlessly blank.

Harry wanted to borrow a time turner so he could hit his past self. Once for promising to tell her anything, and once for simply hoping she would never broach the subject of the fourth marauder. If he'd been smart (and still talking to Dumbledore) he would have concocted a lie about Wormtail that made him seem extremely ordinary, instead of leaving his existence suspiciously blank, a big question mark that understandably drew Raven's attention. Still, as he looked at her hard face, with those vivid violet eyes, he wasn't sure even the most perfectly crafted lie would have convinced her to drop it. And considering his location, escape wasn't really an option. Even if he wanted to risk the broken ankle that would eventuate from jumping back down to the balcony (that is, if his aim was perfect and he didn't end up plummeting to the ground) he was sure she'd find him again.

"I don't think I'm the best person-"

"Don't avoid this. You are the only one that will talk to me. As the only person, you _are_ the best person. Why?" she asked sharply. She'd come up here to comfort him and steal the hair, and now she was after him like an elite Auror with a completely different purpose. Harry felt like he was being questioned by the head of law enforcement and wondered if this was why she'd really followed him. You caught more flies with honey than vinegar after all, as Aunt Petunia was fond of telling Uncle Vernon when he complained about his co-workers at the drill company. Though Harry doubted Raven liked to play such games. Unable to see a way out, he relented.

"Fine. Wormtail went to school with my dad, and Sirius and Pro- Lupin."

"I gathered that." Raven replied, words thick with distaste. Who it was directed at, Harry wasn't sure. He had no idea about the circumstances of her conception, or how there could be such ambiguity over her paternity. He'd consciously avoided thinking about what kind of situation the marauder's could have gotten into with one woman that resulted in such a specific group of suspects, all with equal chances of being the father.

"He betrayed my parents to Voldemort." Harry said finally. It was easier to get it all out at once. Raven simply blinked at him through the falling snow. "And he framed Sirius for his crime. He spent thirteen years in Azkaban with everyone, even Lupin, believing he did it. There's more to it, obviously, but that's the gist."

Something clicked into place in Raven's mind, and suddenly Wormtail jumped to top place on the ranking of fathers by likelihood.

"Where is he now?" she asked, her voice managing somehow to contain a new layer of desolation.

"He's Voldemorts servant. He helped him get his new body." Harry told her, his Quiddich troubles now seeming rather insignificant.

"How perfect." she said quietly. All at once, Sirius and Lupin looked like shinning role models for fatherhood and the deceased James Potter seemed the kind of man she wanted for a dad. The feeling of falling ill morphed into the feeling she might collapse. How was it possible to have this much terrible luck?

"It doesn't mean anything," Harry promised her. He looked worried, and she realised she was leaning too far forward to be safe. "er, maybe we should get down?"

Glad for the opportunity to do something physical, she lunged for his hand and teleported back down to the balcony. She let go of his hand, but he didn't move away. Rather than disappearing, the energy between her and Harry seemed to have increased. He had known this entire time that she was most likely the product of some dumb whore, the lord of the demons and a man who had betrayed everyone to serve a Wizarding dictator. There had been some hostility at the start, but it had long since melted away and he treated her like everyone else. Like good, rule-abiding Hermione. Like funny, loyal Ron. Even when she was the spawn of scum.

"How can you say it doesn't mean anything?" she asked bitterly. In the back of her mind, she wasn't sure why she was so surprised. The problem was, she thought, that the from the moment she'd discovered the possibility of multiple fathers, she'd been imagining miracles. It had suddenly seemed like her life was a Gothic fairy-tale, but instead of a prince as her night in shining amour, it would be a good man revealed as her long lost dad. The thought had consumed her, driven her to this castle with it's intoxicating possibility. How could she have kept logical in such a situation? Especially when magic had become an intrinsic part of the tale's second act. Even when she'd discovered three out of four doors were dead-ends, there was still the mystery of the fourth. Now Harry had crushed her stupid little dream with horrible reality, and it was clear Albus Dumbledore was no Fairy Godmother.

Then for the first time she could ever remember, she was crying. The pin-prick behind the eyes sensation that came first was of course familiar to her, but when it happened instead of nipping it in the bud with her strict and- as some would say- unnatural control, she let herself tip past the point of no return. The first salty tear that blazed the trail down her cheek was a massive relief. It was like her body was turgid, swollen with sadness, and each new tear that fell was relieving the pressure building behind her skin and threatening to burst her.

Nothing happened. No windows shattered, the castle didn't blow up, no one was hurt. She had gained the ability feel when she defeated Trigon that first time, when she had earnt the right every other girl was born with. Harry, of course, was alarmed.

"Don't cry." He said, sounding more pleading than soothing.

"One tear doesn't count." she retorted, just as a second slid down her face. She was so far away from her friends, so far away from any comfort. She stared out into the darkness, and felt the world tilting slightly. She was going to be sick. She knew, just knew, how this would pan out. Fate was a very predictable mistress in her case. If there were two options, more often than not the worse option would occur. The traitorous Wormtail would be her father. That was a give-in. All that remained was to mechanically eliminate the other suspects( especially James) for everyone else's peace of mind. She turned to Harry, and was surprised to see the look on his face. Sorrow rather than pity.

She leant into him before her logic had a chance to collect itself and put forward the argument of why continuing on with her plan of stealing hairs was a bad idea. Perhaps the list itself was so long there was no time to write it in her head. The next thing she knew her chin was on his shoulder and her arms around him. She felt his come up to encircle her.

It was wrong, and now that he was the one to tell her the truth she felt worse than ever. But they all had to know for sure. As gently as she could, she moved one hand to the back of his head and wound a few short strand around her index finger. He pulled his head back unexpectedly, and she found herself face to face with him, much too close for comfort. Before she could give into the urge to fall forwards into his lips, she yanked herself away, taking the hair with her.

"I have to go." She said, and spun away into nothingness before he could reply. Harry was alone on the balcony, and didn't come down to the common room for a very long time.

* * *

**I apologise for the lack of detail about the Quiddich game. It just seemed a little pointless to write up, since it's all in the actual book. So if it seemed a bit rushed (I know it did), I did that on purpose to skip ahead to some more _interesting_ scenes. I'm not sure what you lovely readers will make of this. Hopefully you like it. I think the fact I managed to update at all is impressive. Especially since this chapter is 6,000 words. That makes it longer than half the stories with ten chapters on this site. **


	18. A secret between friends

**I own nothing, as usual. **

* * *

Raven reappeared in her dormitory, heart pounding. Mortification overcoming the urge to get rid of the evidence by sending the DNA away as soon as possible, she checked she was alone and shoved the hairs into a potions vile and proceeded to bury it beneath the Muggle clothes in her trunk. Finding herself suddenly exhausted, she undressed and fell into bed before anyone could come up, throwing up a barrier against the thoughts screaming through her mind before they had a chance to overcome her. She could deal with them tomorrow - it wasn't like they were going anywhere. The gloomy notion seemed enough to placate her shame, and she drifted off into a fitful, jerky sleep.

She woke early to the soft snores of her room-mates at the crack of dawn. Her body ached as if she'd slept on a pile of bricks, but instead of lying back down she decided to use this as an opportunity to avoid the trio. Dressing silently, she checked Hermione's bed to find her sleeping peacefully. Raven had no idea what time she'd come in last night, but it was possible Harry had talked to her after coming down from the tower. He might have told her about what had passed between the two of them, or he might be saving that for a conversation today. Either way, Raven didn't want to be around any of them. Even if Harry never told a soul, it would be difficult enough to look them in the eye.

The young witch expected the castle to be deserted at this hour, but was surprised to find a fair number of students and teachers about. Most of the students were Athletes - when she sat down to a lonely breakfast in the Great Hall she spotted the Gryffindor Quiddich Captain further down the table with her broomstick resting under the bench, and there was that crazy kid from Hufflepuff who swam in the black lake even in this weather, wolfing down porridge. She supposed the group of Ravenclaws in Muggle sweatpants might be joggers. In any case, it was too early for anyone to be very social, and they all ate in comfortable silence, giving Raven plenty of time alone with her thoughts.

What had she done? Or rather, what had she almost done? _Oh Azar_, she hoped he kept it a secret. She hoped, no matter the results of the DNA test, they never spoke of the incident again. She had lost her mind for a moment there with the news about Wormtail. One second she had been trying to alleviate his bad mood, and the next he was trying to alleviate her sorrow, and the adrenaline from being up that high on an ancient castle with a picturesque view in the snow hadn't helped either. There was only one thing to do, and that was to acknowledge what had almost come to pass in private, and completely deny it happened in public. The fact that she hadn't given in and kissed Harry was of little comfort. She had been on that turret with him for business and had no idea how it had all degenerated so quickly. But then, she supposed she had come to Hogwarts for business too, and before long had found herself dropping _slang_ into conversation with Witches and Wizards whom she considered _friends_. To almost _snog _the boy-who-lived/the boy-who-might-be-her-half-brother however, was going way too far. It was like the story line for a very bad soap opera. One thing, she mused, her life had never seemed like before. Despite all the odd things that happened to her, Raven didn't think her life had ever bordered on territory as ridiculous and dramatic as possible incest.

_Incest. _She felt like shuddering at the word. Of course, it was a very accepted way of life - for _Demons. _Her entire purpose in life was to be as moral as was humanly possible. It almost seemed as if the hairs weren't worth the trouble, but then she remembered Wormtail and that train of thought was killed. She had to know for certain if she was literally all bad.

Raven took a long walk around the grounds to clear her head until it was time for class. In Potions she sat next to Neville and under Snape's glare it was fairly easy to get by without having to chat with Harry, Ron, or Hermione. She did watch them out of the corner of her eye, and predictably saw both Hermione and Harry, but not Ron, sneaking glances at her. Panic bubbled beneath her skin, but she quashed it fairly quickly. Did she really care that much if the others knew something strange had occurred last night? She had larger problems to contend with, did she not? After all, Hogwarts was not her home. At any moment someone from the Order could dent Voldemort's plans for domination via Trigon and she would be let off home to California with knowledge of her new father. What the students here thought of her, even the trio, was not of long term importance. She'd simply forgotten that fact for a while, and needed to re-distance herself.

Besides, Harry might not have even thought her actions on the turret all that strange. They were probably looking at her because they'd missed her at breakfast, and she hadn't said hello to them all lesson. Nonetheless, Raven's paranoia kept her on edge. That didn't change in Transfiguration, where she pleased McGonigall by turning a Ferret into a feather duster after spending the entire class listening intently so she could ignore the trio on the other side of Dean Thomas. At break she hurried off to the Library before the others could even gather their things. It seemed an odd place to go to get away from Hermione, but she wanted to research Wormtail a little more. Her curiosity about how his crimes led to Sirius' imprisonment needed to be satiated, and she didn't mind missing lunch. Truth be told, the volume of food Hogawarts fed their students was too much for her. She was used to surviving on a lot less, and didn't want to return to the Titans much heavier than she was now. The humiliation of Robin having to send her off to extra training sessions to tone up again would be too much to bare.

The search for information on the crime Sirius was originally imprisoned for yielded results surprisingly quickly. He had his own stack of articles and even a few books, being such a prolific killer. One of the earliest, and most interesting articles was by a woman with the last name Skeeter, who she was sure she'd heard mentioned with venom by Hermione. Raven selected it for the pictures, but it also gave a dramatic retelling of Sirius murdering one of his oldest friends - Peter Pettegrew - right after he'd betrayed the Potters to Voldemort. The article told of how _brave _Peter had been to confront Sirius over the murders, and how an argument had turned into the death of him and a dozen Muggle bystanders. For effect, the author dedicated a paragraph to a final friendly meeting between the Potters, Sirius, Peter and an old school friend she guessed was Lupin, before the Potters had gone into hiding. Raven guessed it was the last time the Marauders had been all together, and according to the dates she would have been around two at the time. Two moving photographs headed up the article. One was the mug shot shot she'd seen in the other article a few weeks ago, with a gaunt Sirius straining against his chains, looking every inch the madman. In the other Sirius must have been about her age, and the contrast between the two was striking. He was incredibly handsome, flashing a devilish smile and winking intermittently, surrounded by three other boys. This was the Sirius from the stolen memory of her mother's. A young James (that had to be him, because he could have been Harry's twin) had his arm flung around Sirius' neck, a young and extremely relaxed Remus Lupin was smiling slightly, and a small plump boy was looking as if his every dream had been realised to stand among them. Raven found she couldn't look directly at him without going cold inside and feeling sick. She'd thought Arella would have_ some_ standards, but apparently not.

Raven kept her head down in the final few classes of the day, feigning intense focus on taking her notes or practising charms when all she could think about was Wormtail. That incredibly disturbing group shot was imprinted in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't get rid of it. One of those men was her original father. The first of those men was a half-breed. The second was a convicted criminal who wanted nothing to do with her. The third was dead. The last had betrayed them all for Voldemort. No matter which way she looked at it, none of the men who might have been half of what created her before Trigon had gotten involved were good options. But by far, Peter Pettegrew was the last person she wanted genetic ties to. She knew when she sent Harry's DNA off for testing, it would be with the vague and shameful hope the results would show him as her half-brother, only so she didn't have to deal with a biological link to Wormtail.

After classes were done and before anyone (Hermione) could come upstairs and ask where she'd been, she dove into bed and pulled the hangings shut, with vials, parchment and a quill in hand. The team hadn't sent a reply from their last letter, but this couldn't wait any longer. Besides, she only intended it for her leader's eyes and it would be less likely to be noticed if it was sent to him before the others were on the watch for owls. It was risky to send this since their last contact had been so angry. But what choice did she have? She couldn't count on any of the others to get the job done, or keep it to themselves. Robin was... special. He wouldn't tell anyone if she asked him not to. He understood her in that way, even if he didn't understand her need to be left alone.

She wrote a few drafts and finally settled on the shortest, bluntest option. It seemed to convey the urgency and seriousness of the situation. She tried not to imagine his reaction to receiving it as she yanked out a few of her own hairs by the root. She was sure he'd had stranger requests from Batman back in Gotham, or at least that's what she was trying to tell herself when the hangings were wrenched open by a narrow-eyed Hermione.

"Where have you been today?" she asked. Before Raven's reflexes took effect Hermione had snatched two of the vials with surprising speed. "What are these?"

"Give them back." Raven said, trying to seem vaguely scandalised by the intrusion though panic was clawing at her gut. She wished _anyone _else had found her, even Harry, because Hermione was the only one likely to put everything together and come up with the right answer. Time ticked on slowly as Hermione examined the vials, mouth open, until comprehension dawned on her face and she stared at Raven in horror.

"This is Harry's hair, isn't it?"

"No!" Raven insisted, making a grab for them. Finally her training kicked in and she was successful, but Hermione ducked past her to snatch at the parchment while her hands were full. It was one of the longer drafts, full of wordy pleas and struggles to explain the situation to Robin without really explaining it.

"Robin, I need you to perform a DNA test between these hairs for me. It's important you keep this a secret from the others, if only to keep them from worrying the way I know you will?" She read in disbelief, before lapsing into silence, eyes raking the page. When she finished she let the letter flutter to the bed and straightened up, indignant. "I'm guessing you didn't ask Harry's permission for this."

"Maybe I wanted it to be a surprise when I reveal if we're related or not." Raven replied sarcasticly, gathering the letter and vials back together as if Hermione might snatch them up again. Her insides felt cold, and she could barely believe she'd been found out. All that remained to be sorted now was what Hermione would do about it.

"You stole them." Hermione accused. This was the way the two girls used to talk to each other, with suspicion and hostility. That re-distancing thing was working already, as if the friendship they'd shared had been non-existent, Raven mused.

"I consider it public property once it's lying around." Raven said shortly. A lie, and a creepy one at that. What else could she say? She would not apologise for taking action while Dumbledore would prefer her to do nothing. She would not beg at Hermione's feet for forgiveness when she had nothing to be sorry about. Knowing her parentage was a basic right the Order of the Phoenix had stripped from her for their own gain. They didn't trust her enough to stick around and stop Voldemort by her own volition, and so they held her human father over her head and expected her to sit their whining like a dog for treats, playing dead and jumping when they said so. Raven wouldn't do it.

"If you want to do a DNA test on hair the root has to be attached." Hermione said shrewdly. "You would know that the Mitochondrial DNA from the strand would be no good to you, because it only passes through the mother. You ripped them out."

Raven swore inwardly, struggling to keep her face impassive. Two out of the three hairs she'd pulled from Harry's head still had the root attached, and the other she'd disguarded. Trust Hermione to know such a detail, she thought bitterly. Even though she'd left the Muggle world for the most part when she turned eleven, she'd still kept up with modern science. Though it was also likely she'd begun researching DNA the moment Raven had arrived, because it was such an obvious solution to the problem the Headmaster had created for her.

"Look," The older girl started hollowly. "I can't wait for Dumbledore to perform the Paternos charm. He told me he would do it once Voldemort is no longer a threat, and that could take years. I'm happy to help the Order in any way I can, and I want Voldemort destroyed no matter how long it takes. But I can't spend the whole time around Harry not knowing if he's my brother or not."

The answer seemed to take the anger right out of Hermione. Neither apology or denial, simply an explanation the younger girl could understand. She sighed, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Biting her lip as she always did when nervous or confused, she had to take a moment to collect all her Gryffindor courage to broach a related subject with Raven.

"Harry told me what happened in the tower last night." she said quickly, resisting the urge to cringe. Harry had appeared in the Common Room very late last night, long after the glum Quiddich team and all it's disappointed fans had gone to bed. Hermione had stayed up to finish an Arithmancy essay, and Harry had told her about the hug, and the charged atmosphere with an air of hopeless confusion. While Harry may have been too dense to understand the complex feelings between him and Raven, Hermione thought she had some idea.

"Nothing happened in the tower last night." Raven replied lightly, though her expression appeared more vehement than before.

"I'm not stupid. Did you just use it as an opportunity to steal the hairs, or do you have... feelings for him?" Hermione asked, after gingerly checking behind her to see if the door was still closed. Raven appreciated that she was being asked discreetly, but she still had to force out her answer. She supposed Hermione had a right to know about this particular thing, if Raven expected her to keep the hairs a secret.

"I like Harry as a person. I don't particularly want him as my brother, but that doesn't mean I want a relationship of that _sort_ with him either. I don't do those, at all. I did go up there with him to steal the hairs, but something happened that made me feel odd and so there was some... tension, I guess. It wont eventuate again." she promised.

"What...'happened'?" Hermione asked sceptically. She knew all about things 'happening' when certain people got together, and remembered briefly that Viktor hadn't written in a while.

"I asked about Wormtail, and he told me." Raven sighed, trying her best to keep any accusation out of her voice. This situation would turn out best if both of them accepted their own moral flaws. It was difficult, but Raven knew that just as she'd had good intentions for stealing Harry's DNA, Hermione probably had good intentions when she helped keep Wormtail's true identity a secret.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Hermione said, the shadow of guilt crossing her features. Or perhaps it was just a blush.

"Right." Raven didn't quite know what to say, because she didn't know exactly what the good intentions behind all the secrecy were. Had Hermione kept quiet because she knew it would hurt her, or simply because Dumbledore had forbidden her? Did she not think Raven deserved to know all her options, or did she think it would take so long for the Paternos charm to be performed that it wouldn't matter?

"Dumbledore told us not to tell." Hermione explained softly, looking down and biting her lip, as per her habit.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was afraid you'd leave." she frowned, mulling it over.

"I've had worse hits before." Raven said. Hermione looked at her with pity, which Raven resented, but not enough to say anything.

"I know, I figured. Even if you won't tell us what they are." Raven said nothing. Harry had complained of the same thing, but what did they expect? She was a private person. Just because she became closer with them didn't mean she was going to spill her guts. However, unlike Harry, Hermione was persistent. "Your friend... Robin. Why haven't you told him or her about who you're comparing your DNA to?"

"He doesn't know why I'm here." She sighed. Hermione blinked in surprise.

"And he's still going to keep it a secret, from... whoever?"

"Our friendship isn't conditional," Raven said, realising with a twinge of guilt that perhaps she'd taken advantage of the fact. "and I don't want to worry my other friends any more than I have to. He's the strongest out of all of them."

"What are they like?" Hermione asked eagerly. Raven sighed, realising she would not give up as easily as Harry.

"My friends?" Hermione nodded. "They're like me. Odd. But in other ways." Raven said after a moment. Maybe there was no harm in sharing the skeleton of her life with Hermione, who had momentarily forgotten to be angry about the hair theft. It was the details that would reveal her as a Titan and a superhero, after all.

"Do they have your powers?"

"No. They have different powers. Except Robin, he's got none. He's just... strong." she hesitated.

"This is starting to sound like a secret organisation." Hermione said wryly.

"It's not that secret." Raven replied carefully. It was an intellectual exercise, talking about this with such a perceptive witch. She hadn't forgotten how determined Hermione had been to discover who and what she really was at the beginning of their hostile relationship.

"How many of you are there?"

"Five. Three boys and Starfire, and me."

"Starfire. That's an interesting name."

"You have no idea." she laughed humourlessly, imagining Starfire at Hogwarts for a moment. No doubt she would be the best kind of Hufflepuff.

"What's she like?"

"Beautiful. A redhead. Like if a Weasley got crossed with a super-Veela." she said after a moment, with a small smile. "And that's all I'm telling you."

Hermione smiled a little guiltily, then frowned.

"I guess... since it's not really hurting Harry... I don't have to tell him about the DNA."

Raven smiled back, and Hermione helped her package the correct letter and vials together, sealing the large envelope with a charm to make sure nothing fell out in flight. A great weight had been lifted - she wasn't alone in this scheme any longer. She had Hermione on her side, and if anyone else found out she wouldn't be solely blamed. Perhaps distancing herself from the trio's friendship was a bad idea after all.

* * *

**Hmn. Not sure how I feel about my own chapter. However, we have a worrying encounter with Dennis Creevey and Robin's reaction to the request for DNA testing to look forward to in future!**


	19. The trouble with Fans

**Thank you for all your reviews (Wow, 14 for a chapter I didn't think was particularly long!), but I think I'll continue writing as much "teenage angst" as I like. Though oddly enough I didn't have any secret convict/adulterer/werewolf/evil fathers hidden in the magical world, or even any maybe-cousins to **_almost_** make-out with to be angsty about when I was sixteen, so I didn't realise how grating it would be to hear about something so common. Maybe I just had a really sheltered childhood compared the certain few who mentioned how boring it was? **

**I can be sassy too, you know. **

* * *

Hermione's acceptance of her DNA plan gave Raven the confidence to face Harry and Ron the next day. She breezed into breakfast as if she hadn't completely ignored them the day before, and made a benign comment about the weather, glancing up at the ceiling while she was really watching for Harry's reaction. He frowned slightly, and didn't seem as comfortable around her as before, but he didn't say a word. She was sure Ron knew nothing about what had happened on the turret, because if he did he was doing far too good a job of hiding it. She examined him for a moment, wondering if his personality was just an act and in order to preserve peace he was simply playing that character. She sometimes wondered the same thing with Beastboy. If his dismal jokes and grins weren't just a way of protecting himself, one that was a thousand times more convincing than her ice Queen exterior. But then Ron began suggesting various ways Harry might smuggle his broom out from the Dungeons and rejoin the Quiddich team and she decided he was really just that oblivious.

"Seriously though - How about Polyjuice potion?" He suggested to Hermione, with all the seriousness of someone planning a rescue mission for political prisoners rather than charmed logs. Hermione had snorted into her cereal, Ron had demanded to know what was so laughable about the idea and Harry had rolled his eyes and ignored their bickering, and with that a normal atmosphere was returned. Raven felt she'd gotten away with it. With everything. It was such a feeling of relief that she was able to meet Harry's eyes, a small smile sharing in amusement at the silly argument. No odd urges surfaced at the contact, life seemed to settle suddenly, and it was a shock to realise just how worried and confused she'd really been in the aftermath.

The next week passed without any incidences of note. Draco looked either translucent or green in turn whenever Raven saw him, and his body was drawn in at all times, as if someone had tightened invisible screws in all his limbs. Something was bothering him, but it was not in her to feel sympathy for him, or think up conspiracy theories about it like the others. The snowfall increased. DA meetings were a continued success, as were her classes. On Friday she left the others in the common room playing exploding snap, heading to her final remedial lesson, filled with yet more relief. She was still further behind in her work than Ron, but that was only because these remedial classes in almost every subject had taken up so much time. Now she could begin to catch up, and once she did, devote more time to the fight against Voldemort. Dumbledore had been largely silent, but she doubted that would last for long once Robin's reply found it's way into her hands. She'd sent the vials and her note away as soon as she and Hermione had agreed to keep it their little secret, and despite knowing he might not give her the information she so desperately craved for another few weeks, she found herself filled with hopeful anticipation each and every time the post owls appeared. She wasn't worried that Robin would refuse to help her. She could still feel their bond buried deep in her mind, weak from distance and time, but ever-present and incandescent with his existence amongst her thoughts and memories.

The cold had really begun to permeate through the castle wherever there wasn't a fire, and she didn't expect to see anyone lingering around. That's why it surprised her to see a student with eyes the size of dinner plates appear in her path, like he'd been waiting for her. She'd never seen the kid before, or at least, if she had she'd taken no notice of him. That didn't seem to be too unlikely really, when she thought about it. The boy was tiny, one of the second years who looked like they shouldn't have been allowed on the Hogwart's express for another couple of years, whose bodies hadn't even thought of starting puberty yet. She would have simply glared down at him and moved past, but his giant shinning eyes caught hers and she found herself frozen. Something about the recognition- no, _reverence-_ there made her feel as if frigid hands were trailing up her back.

"What do you want?" she asked, voice as cold and dark as the empty hall. The sound set off a reaction in him, and his body began to tremble, as if the edges of him were blurring.

"Could you sign my scrapbook?" He asked in a whisper. His own request seemed to infuse him with a sort of courage and urgency, and from his bag he produced a large, flat book, from which she could see the sides and corners of newspaper clippings protruding. Raven stared at it, her skin growing colder while her organs grew hot. If not for that gaze, which seemed to convey a message she didn't want to hear, she would have shoved past him by now. When she didn't speak, he hurried to open the cover. On the inside cover _If found, please return to Dennis Creevey at..._ was written, but it wasn't the familiarity of his name that made her feel as if she'd fallen from a great height. It was the first, introductory page, where a photograph of the Justice League was pasted. A group of familiar faces, static unlike those in magical photos, smiled up at Raven, and it occurred to her that they didn't look so out of place in Hogwarts. There were the capes of course, which lent themselves to the setting, but maybe it was more the expressions of complete confidence that reminded her of Wizards, particularly her professors.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She said, regaining control of herself and pushing past him. The boy dropped his scrapbook in surprise. "Stay away from me."

She was now late for her class, but she doubted McGonigall would mind if she missed it all together once she knew what had happened. Of course she considered keeping this whole incident to herself, but the thought of what might happen if she let it go unchecked was terrifying. If this kid knew superheroes, and he knew who she was, who might he tell? If the entire school found out, who outside of it might know she was here? The Titans might find out and try to come, and that would be a disaster. Worse still, if Voldemort knew she was here her advantage over Wizard magic would be revealed and thus, less valuable to the order. Her heart raced in her ears as she jogged to Dumbledore's Office, half fearing the boy would follow. She needn't have worried: Following Raven was the last thing of Dennis Creevey's mind.

Dennis picked his book up off the ground, careful to make sure none of the loose clipping fell out, and tucked it back into his bag. He headed off in the opposite direction, to the common room from which Raven had come. Without stopping to talk or acknowledge anyone, he made his way to his dormitory, where he could be alone with his thoughts because Davey Caldon and Brian Whitley were ment to be out in the grounds with the Paldew twins, Betsey and Emma, tonight. Once he'd made sure to check he really was alone, he pulled out his scrapbook once more and flipped past the smiling faces of the Justice league to a newspaper clipping. It contained a blurry photograph of six people, most of whom had their faces obscured by masks, metal, hoods, or goggles.

It was the very first day back at Hogwarts when he'd noticed her. The new exchange student form America, with her purple hair and scarlet gem, who glared contemptuously at those in her way and gave tongue lashings sharper than the Head of Gryffindor house when they didn't get out of it fast enough. He'd known she was familiar, but it wasn't until Colin had shown him the photos he'd taken of the Quiddich game that he'd recognised her. From between another two pages he slipped it out - the glossy moving picture Colin had taken at breakfast. In the centre was Harry Potter, who Dennis and Colin both agreed was absolutely brilliant, looking slightly shocked to have his photo taken. He kept blinking up at Colin, while Ron Weasley glared down at his food and Hermione Granger smiled slightly from across the table and intermittently turned her head to say something to the girl on her right. She was only three-quarters in the frame, talking back to Hermione and throwing Dennis dirty looks, but when he compared the newspaper photo and this one he could see the exact same distasteful expression. Raven of the Teen Titans, who did not like her picture taken.

Even though she hadn't wanted to sign his scrapbook, Dennis could barely contain his excitement. He needed to tell someone now that he'd proven it by seeing her up close, and Colin sprang to mind. Back before Colin had found out about real magic, he'd shared Dennis' enthusiasm for Superheroes. It was the American ones they'd liked the best. Superman in primary colours, flying through the sky. It was rumoured in the magazines his father got for them over the internet that he could see through walls, destroy his enemies with heat vision, and turn back time. Batman in the dead of night, swooping down like a shadow to catch the bad guy with fantastic gadgets. Wonder Woman, with her lasso and spangled shorts, beating up the criminals better than any normal man could. They were like the war heroes in his mother's stories, but shinier. They were perfect, like gods. Colin had thought so too, but then his Hogwarts letter had come and he'd replaced them with Wizards like Harry Potter, and Dumbledore, who he said were the real deal. In his mind groups like the Justice League became a myth, a hoax, like the WWE wrestlers he'd seen on the blurry television channel at home. Just guys who dressed up in costumes for kids, who weren't capable of the things people claimed they'd done, because they were muggles instead of Wizards.

Colin didn't see, like Dennis did, that they could both be real. Because now one of them was in their school. Raven of the Teen Titans, who Dennis couldn't believe no one else had recognised, hung out with _Harry Potter _and was in _their _house. She was a superhero and a witch, which made her about the most wonderful hero ever. Back home Dennis had plastered the walls of their room in Justice League publicity shoots, but now he knew he had to get her signature, or a better photo, or _something_ to add to his collection. Raven had been harsh just now, but he supposed he'd scared her. Once he told Colin, he knew could talk to her together.

* * *

_Weight's Room, T-Tower, Jump City_

_..._

_Just five more minutes. _

The dull thought burnt through Robin's mind, a temporary reprieve from fixation on his searing muscles. He pushed himself just that little bit harder with the realisation he was falling behind on the treadmill, knowing that if he let himself loose an inch now he'd be tumbling off the back before long and Cyborg would never let him forget it.

"Damn, Boy Wonder. How long have you been on that thing?" The robotic man in question entered the gym, wearing the familiar _Robin-is-crazy_ expression the whole team had perfected. Robin simply grunted. There was something about clean smirky people with resting heart rates that could really piss off a person in the home stretch of an hour long workout. "Okay... how long you got to go?" Cyborg probed. Robin tried to resist the urge to check the timer, but failed. Three more minutes. He knew it would seem like ten, now that he'd given in and looked. The final part of a run could be torture if you were watching the clock.

"A few. More minutes." He answered with another grunt, swiping his water bottle from it's perch and taking a swig, feeling the welcome moisture wet the dry back of his throat.

"Well, when you're done we thought we'd go get some Pizza or something. We haven't really been out much since Raven left, and I think BB is suffering withdrawals." Cyborg suggested, though there was something off about his tone. A little bit of accusation, perhaps, Robin thought vaguely.

"Eating Pizza would render this workout," he panted. "pointless."

"Okay then. You can get sushi and watch us eat Pizza. Means we won't have to get Hawaiian, thank the good lord." His team-mate grinned, taking his excuse as confirmation. The timer reached zero and Robin slowed to a walk, ab and calf muscles painful in the best possible way. Cyborg helpfully doused him with water.

"What's wrong with Hawaiian Pizza?"

"No one likes hot pineapple but you."

Feeling light-headed, Robin jumped off the treadmill to find the ground still moving. He steadied himself and waited for the feeling to subside, mentally running through the list of paperwork sitting on his desk.

"I don't know Cy, I've got a lot of stuff to get through..."

"C'mon man. You've been pulling back lately. Star thinks we're going to break apart." This time, there was no mistaking the accusation. Cyborg stared him down, frowning.

"Star thinks we're going to break apart every time you and BB have an argument over breakfast. So, constantly." Robin shrugged.

"Still, you've been off in your own world. I think she's even considering taking Aqualad up on his offer of a date." Cyborg watched him carefully for his reaction, his tone suspiciously light. Robin almost choked on his water mid-gulp.

"Aqualad asked Starfire on a date?"

"He's asked her about five times. She didn't want to say yes because of you." Cyborg rolled his eyes.

"Me?" He asked incredulously. Sure, there'd been a time when he'd thought about Starfire in that way, but what man hadn't? Judging by the huge amount of fanmail Starfire got from women (Raven used to read through them at the breakfast table, raising her eyebrows often and disguarding the more sexually explicit letters to shield Star's innocence while BB begged to take over the job) _everyone_ in the city had.

"C'mon."Cyborg snorted, wondering if Robin was being dense on purpose. "There was some tension between you two."

"Maybe. But it's pretty much dissolved now." He promised, slightly bemused. Cyborg continued to watch him carefully. It was plausible that Robin had been too busy (with paperwork, with criminals, or with Raven's disapearance) to take any notice of the way Starfire dropped hints or tried out her flirting techniques on him, but he was usually more observant.

"Allright. I'll buy it."

Robin grinned and flicked the off switch on the treadmill. It was one of the best feelings in the world, the end of strenuous exercise. Running, even on a treadmill, made him feel as if his life were moving forward the way it should be. Like if the belt was turning, time would move faster and Raven's reply (This one filled with heartfelt confessions punctuated by sardonic one-liners) would arrive when he finished.

"You really need to pull back on the workouts." Cyborg noted.

"Someone's got to keep in shape around here." Robin shot back. He wiped his forehead and pulled it back slick with sweat, as if he'd finished washing his hands.

"Eugh. I'll get you a towel. But you are coming." Cyborg warned, retreating out of the gym. Accepting defeat and knowing he would regret it tonight, Robin sat down on the weights' bench, looking out the window. The gym was on the opposite side of the tower to the commonroom, pretty much identical in size and with the same sort of wide, floor length window that gave a very different but still spectacular view. It was just Ocean right up to the horizon, and here it was possile to buy into the illusion that the T-Tower existed in the middle of the sea, and forget there was a city and all it's responsibilities right behind you. It was easy to get lost in the motion of the white-crested waves, but before he could fall completely into his thoughts there was a sharp tapping on the window. Jerking his head, he was confronted with the sight of a small grey owl. He'd jumped to his feet and let it in before his muscles could even protest. This Owl wasn't the same one he was used to, and his blood ran cold as he wondered why Raven was sending him mail now. For someone who was used to thinking on his feet in ever-changing situations, this small change terrified him. If his short, apologetic letter had even reached her yet, there was no way a reply could make it's way back in such a short amount of time. Something else must have happened, so rather than waiting for Cyborg or calling the others he ripped the oddly bulky envelope open, straining against the packaging tape. Two Vials rolled out into his hands, and the accompanying message rendered him speechless and numb.

_Do a DNA test on these hairs for me and send the results back with this owl. Please, don't ask questions and don't tell anyone. I trust you, and this time I'm not being sarcastic. _

_-Raven_

He checked the back of the note and re-read it several times, expecting something more, even from Raven. He thought he'd see an explanation, or a post script that said she was kidding, but there was nothing.

_Jesus Raven. Where are you and what the hell have you got yourself into?_

Nevertheless Robin put both vials into his pocket of his sweat pants, almost mechanically, as if this was a routine he knew well. Later he knew he would go down to the Police Station and harass the chief until he agreed to surrender a lab technician to carry out a DNA test, quick as possible. As secretly as he could, of course. It crossed his mind to tell the others, but only for a moment. Raven trusted him, even if she didn't think he deserved an explanation. For all he knew, he was the only person she had ever trusted in her entire life. It was not an option to show her that was a mistake.

Cyborg returned with the towel and Robin somehow managed to block the mercifully silent owl from view. He told Cyborg he'd have a shower and meet the Team at the Pizza place. They were wrong, when they said he didn't trust Raven and that was why he was so intent on finding where she had gone. He cared about her so much it hurt, and that was why it had turned into a new obsession. This new development... he didn't know what to think. All he knew was that once he finally got the results, they wouldn't be sent through Owl post. He would be handing them to her in person, and if she didn't agree to meet him she wouldn't get them at all.

* * *

**Once again, a little short for all our tastes but I felt like updating. More to come soon, I promise.**


End file.
